


Memories in Blood

by fusiondescent



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Canon Divergence, Demonic Possession, Gen, Kiran is NB, Slow Burn, Theophany, written before Book II was released
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fusiondescent/pseuds/fusiondescent
Summary: Through a blood sacrifice Kiran is thrown in a world between two warring kingdoms. Hailed as the divine and as holy they do their duty to summon heroes.However as time goes on it becomes more apparent that Kiran is no holy being and the religion surrounding Breidablik isn't what it was meant to be.





	1. Blood Ritual

**Author's Note:**

> I took this fic down awhile ago. I wrote this before Book II was released with the knowledge of Book I therefore some stuff is different (namely the king). I've tweaked it slightly but it still stays concurrent with the knowledge of Book I. Sorry!
> 
> Anyway! Have fun! And hope I actually finish this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer days become cruel. Skin sear against the sun. They search for comfort elsewhere, away from home. A home they fear to return to.

As the portal opened its giant maws a burning sensation shot up the Summoner’s arm. Fire burned onto their skin as it licked up their arms and dug deep into its flesh. The wrap slipped over their shoulder, down their back, up their cheek, down their torso, and fell down their leg. It kept to the left side of their body, not once slipping past their right. A horrible smell lifted from their skin, smelling like burning flesh left on the grill for too long. It gasped as their hands let Breidablik slip through their fingers letting that wretched thing fall onto the ground letting the grass burn in a fiery hell. There formed a holy ring of flame around the thing as the curse pressed upon the Summoner. Kiran could only wretch in pain. Hands pressed against its head pressing into their skull as if it would pop the parasite within them. They fell to the ground trying not to scream in pain as a light rose from the ground. The light figure turned and struggled against that light as if he was trying to break free from the womb that surrounded him. Kiran almost felt as if they were going to black out from all the sensations that swamped their mind. The touch, the light, the memories that Breidablik clawed out of its filthy mind. Their eyes looked down to their hand away from that light, staring at their hand which was tainted with black markings.

It was in a panic that they picked up the gun-like relic that Anna bestowed upon them for safe keeping. The weapon had looked so much like a gun that Kiran had assumed that it would shoot like one. Their mother had shown it before in her drunken state how to shoot one. Though they too were drunk and didn’t remember well it was instinct that pushed them to survive against the blades that pointed towards them. They were shaking as they looked up at the strange man to the strange red head woman. He broke from that holy light letting it spill out from the sac from which he was born from. It poured down onto the grass, dripping from his body like puss.

“Summoner!” Anna looked back from where the Emblian soldiers approached. The enemy turned to the man who stepped out of the light. In his hands held a bow. He drew the string back with an arrow firing to strike at the neck of one of the soldiers that approached a little too close to Anna. He fell to the ground as his neck sprayed with blood. He fell to his knees hitting the ground with a thud. Kiran turned from the bloodshed. Though they had already seen death prior to the other’s falling from when Anna split an Emblian’s head in two the blood made them sick. The death made them sick (but it was no different from the murder that took place in their city, in their country, shown everywhere on TV those dead bodies covered in blood).

“My—My hand.” Kiran whimpered as they stared at the thin markings coloring their skin. Swirls, lines, and dots hugged its palm as lines ran up their fingers. The rest was covered by the jacket they wore, hidden from sight. Kiran closed their eyes. It felt like they were going to puke. Soon their eyes too felt hot as if fire spat in them. They pressed the palms of their hands to their eyes as it burned and they saw all. “Wh-What happened?” it asked near breathless.

Anna didn’t move for a moment instead gawked at the summoner. Looking at them as if they were an entirely different person. Her eyes trailing up and down the other’s figure, looking at the other as if she had never known them. “Kiran,” the word was almost experimental, as if she wasn’t sure as if the other was truly Kiran. Words were left unsaid as she looked either which way trying to let words fall from lips. “You summoned a Hero.” She closed her mouth soon after as her eyes met the Hero who drew another arrow from his quiver.

“A Hero? If I may, this is hardly the place to talk of my grand history. We’ve still more brutes to deal with.” He spoke with a smile as he approached Anna. The soldiers looked at Kiran as if they were a curse on this land. Their weapons raised ready to pounce on them like a feast.

_Why are you staring at me like that?_

Anna looked behind her for a moment seeing the Emblian soldier approach them though they shook. She bit her lip. “Protect the Summoner at all costs!” The unknown man nodded as he readied his bow.

“As you command,” he said with a smile. Anna turned and ran towards the battle. Her axe was high as the unknown man readied himself for the slaughter to those soldiers that dare come too close to him and Kiran. The Summoner shuffled around on the ground raising from their knees to stand behind the unknown man yet drew its eyes away from blood in fear of what death would wrought. Death was still so new to it. It was still so terrifying.

The pain was becoming numb but still they could feel the ghost of the burn on their flesh. Ice, they needed ice. As the stranger let another arrow fly through the air Kiran clenched the necklace around their neck tighter. Another soldier fell on the ground. Anna’s axe smashed against an Emblian’s head. Their skull cracking. Kiran gagged.

The stranger looked back towards Kiran with concern. “Have you a weak stomach, milady?”

Kiran furrowed their eyebrows as they shot the unknown man a furious look though it appreciated the concern it was the fact that it was called a woman. So frail and dependent. Silence was kept as it bent down to pick up Breidablik. The ring of fire had died as it looked at the still shining white. They gagged again as it felt bile raise from their stomach. A spit, a cough, and wipe from their hand. They felt their hair move. It was strange. It felt longer than they remember. “I’m not a woman,” they held Breidablik in their hand as if it were cursed. “But I do get sick at… blood.”

The stranger was silent for a moment turning Kiran’s words in his head. “You are a man?” he continued. Anna walked towards the two of them wiping her axe with a towel.

“Neither.” Kiran frowned. This crap. It wasn’t like they didn’t get enough of it at home. Home it was near the same, though it figured that now since it was in the old days of man where things were so black and white that the fact that it was neither man nor woman would be more strange than home. Then again, history was fickle, and it was apparent that this world and era was vastly different than the era that Kiran had studied at school.

_I’d much rather like to die than this._

Kiran peeked towards the man but its eyes drew away at the dead soldier so close to them. Death, blood, it made them sick. Emotionless faces, the fear, they wanted to get out, go back home. “What’s your name anyway?”

The stranger smiled. “Virion, at your disposal.” He bowed his head to Kiran. Kiran felt strange that they should be treated as nice like this. It made them feel awkward and almost as if they were too good to exist. It was a stark difference from the way people usually treated it back at home. Home Kiran would be thought nothing more than an annoyance to the rich, a stupid child pursuing a stupid job. Suffering in their illnesses as they laughed at those rich who did not know struggle. Kiran wiped at their eyes again as it burned.

“Kiran.” The name still felt weird on their tongue. A false name for a false person. It was what Breidablik wanted.

Virion looked up from his bowed head. A smile was still upon his lips though a more confused expression was now plastered on his face. “Now might someone tell me how I managed to find myself not in my warm bed but in the middle of the forest between two warring armies?”

Kiran looked at Virion and grimaced. Guilt now ate at them for tearing Virion from their home as Anna did to it. So the guilt transferred from one soul to the other.

“I’m sorry. That’s my fault.” They showed him Breidablik. The markings fluttered around its hand and around Breidablik. The thing almost felt alive as it laughed at the suffering it afflicted upon Kiran. “I think I called you here.” Kiran looked towards Anna for some better explanation than just the feeling that it got from the weapon it showed Virion. Anna promised soon after to speak more clearly about the situation at their castle to Kiran so perhaps the same was in order for Virion. Still, it was strange that Anna kept staring at Kiran and only Kiran, not once looking to Virion in curiosity.

“You summoned me?” Virion raised his brow.

Anna stepped forward clearing her throat. “Here isn’t the best place to explain everything, but when we return to our castle I will tell you everything you need to know.” She glanced at Kiran who drew Breidablik away from Virion.

Virion looked to Anna. “I would love to learn everything there is to know about how I managed to end up in this place.” He nodded his head in agreement, “But I think introductions are in order.”

Anna nodded her head. She motioned towards the unknown. “Of course. My name is Anna. I’m afraid our Divine Summoner brought you here during a time of war.” She motioned towards the dead bodies. “We’re were ambushed as we were on our way to meet up with our larger army.” Kiran was still as they looked onward. Their fingers wrapped around their hair. Bringing it to the front of their face to stare at the longer strands of hair. Why was it white? They glanced down at their palm. Black markings etched into them. Anna looked to stare at Kiran. She approached it. “Kiran? Are you alright?”

Kiran kept staring down at their hand. The black marking against white hair.

“My hair is white.” They turned to look at Anna, a panic was struggling into their voice as it trembled. Virion looked confused. “Anna? Anna, do I look different?” Anna nodded her head as Kiran’s hands pressed against their face. It felt the same. They traced their fingers down their nose still feeling that same bump. One across their eyebrows, over their eyelashes, across their lips. The same. It was the same. “What—What do I look like? Ah!” It closed their eyes again. The pain seared into them.

Anna glanced to Virion. He was obviously confused. “Your hair is white and your eyes… they’re red. Those markings are on your face too. They’re—They’re everywhere.” Kiran’s fingers began to shake.

_Oh, god! My identity. Who the fuck am I? Is this what I really am supposed to look like? Was my original appearance just a fake? Just like how I thought it always was? Were the dreams of my other life true? In the end, was I only a plaything for others to laugh and abuse?_

“Kiran,” Anna ran to them. Holding their arms as they began to shake. Disassociation was quick to come to its body. Their body, their breasts, the way they stood in this place. Were they real? Was anything real in this world? Was this only a dream induced by a coma or was this the afterlife? They remembered the past, the trauma, their pain, so why were they so different. “Kiran look at me,” Anna yelled. Kiran looked at Anna. Stared into her eyes as she held the Summoner’s arms. Staring kept the death at bay, staring kept those thoughts away. Her hands upon Kiran’s body steadied their soul.

_Real. This is real. I can feel Anna. I can feel her._

Breathe. It breathed in and out focusing on the touch Anna had on their body. The only thing keeping them stable in this world. “We have to keep moving, Kiran.” She took Kiran’s hand. Holding it in their hand like a mother taking their child across the street. Kiran found solace in that motherly touch even if their mother repulsed them. “We can’t stop now.” Kiran nodded and gripped Anna’s hand tighter.

“Ok.” Kiran whispered. “Ok, let’s keep—Let’s keep going.”

* * *

 

Candles lit the room. A war table was in front of them. Alfonse, Sharena, Anna, and Kiran sat around the table. In Alfonse’s hand was a book with strange languages upon it. Anna sat writing some letter. Sharena stood by her brother looking at the book. Kiran sat staring at a mirror in front of them tracing their markings on their face. Upon them a black blindfold yet it could still feel and see.

On the war table maps and statues were set on it. Writing scribbled everywhere, daggers that were dug into the map and table. It was something out of a TV show. Something from _Game of Thrones_ or another fantasy story. Somehow they felt calm knowing that there was familiarity in this unknown. But it wasn’t this familiarity that Kiran was looking at. It was a mirror. They kept it against the table edge regularly checking the reflection as if they would see their original appearance. White hair replaced their natural colored one. Their hair was chin length and wavy yet in the very back was hair that came all the way down to their mid-back. It was thick. Awfully thick. Red eyes gleamed as if possessed by a disease. Their nails sharp and teeth sharper. Black ink pressed against their skin which had stayed the same usual color—dark olive.

It could see. Though not in the conventional way that one saw another. Blind and yet not it could sense all that remained but yet felt blind to the world. A picture it felt with the emotions rising and could figure out what one looked like and yet, with all that was said, blackness still prevailed.

A reincarnation of death or the devil. An illness or curse deep in their body. The natural air around them felt horrible, felt unreal, felt disgusting.

_Is this the me? The real me?_

Alfonse was looking at Kiran as it stared at the mirror blind. Looking at the way those markings touched and curled on their body. Stared at the strange clothes and the even stranger way Kiran looked into the mirror. Those red eyes gleamed the cat like pupils fixed on their own reflection hidden from all to see. They didn’t look human they looked like stories of a dragon soul in a mortal body. Only Anna knew what Kiran had once appeared and no one else did. She was lucky in that sense. Lucky to see Kiran as they once were. A normal human being. Now they appeared more like a ghost, a husk of a human, the remains of a normal life. The Summoner looked up towards Alfonse and they shared a look before he gasped and returned to look back at the table.

_Is he scared that I will curse him?_

**Is it scared I’ll be cursed?**

“So is this all a part of your legends?” It set the mirror face down on the table letting their hand linger on the mirror. “That a white haired hero will appear to summon heroes to help you defend against the worlds from Emblian?”

Alfonse looked down at the book in his hand, his eyes glancing down at the words. One that Kiran assumed to be about the legendary Summoner. Or what they called **_Divine_**. “Our legends omit details on what the Summoner looks like. But yes, that is what our records foretell.”

Kiran was silent as they stared back at their hand. The horrible markings, the horrible curse. “There isn’t any way that I can return home?” Kiran looked up to Alfonse.  It was only natural to ask that question. Could one who had been torn from home be returned? They didn’t ask to be brought here.

“I’m afraid not.”

Kiran sighed. It didn’t know what to do nor what it wanted. To return home would be ideal, but so would staying here. One could not help to yearn to return to a world that was their own. The familiarity was what anyone was accustomed to. A world that was full of technology and buildings that touched the sky was so vastly different to the world where a castle looked so akin to a cathedral, where guns had been exchanged for magi and metal. To be thrown in chaos between two raging worlds where horses that flew reigned and magic was possible. It was something that not even Kiran would thought possible (but they did, in their own delusional way). “Are these markings apart of the legend?” Kiran chose to never tell the others that their appearance was different. They spoke to Anna and Virion about this. She respected the Summoner’s wishes. It would be for the best that it kept this secret from everyone.

Anna glanced at Alfonse as he was silent. Sharena cleared her throat. “We don’t actually know. We can consult a mage or healer on the condition, but none of our texts say anything about your markings. Maybe it was lost in translation?” Kiran was silent as Sharena looked down at the text her brother was reading. She glanced at Kiran, her face pained. Tongue itched to speak words, contemplation whether she should speak what was on her mind or not. “I’ve—I’ve heard that some of the servants say that you’re afflicted with a curse.”

Kiran made a face of disbelief. Their heart sunk. “Cursed?” Alfonse looked at Sharena shocked himself. Though Anna did expect as much hearing this. It wasn’t usual for someone to have markings, at least not so intricate and deadly like this. Poisoned thorns, and eye above an eye, teeth, red eyes accompanied by white hair. Everything about it screamed curse or illness.

“Yes. One of the maids that I’m fond of told me the other servants have said indecent things about your markings and white hair.” It felt as if Sharena was beginning to feel guilty for telling Kiran the gossip that sprouted from the maids and butlers. “I can only imagine what our royal court has to say, or even the peasants.” She stared down at the table almost ashamed of herself. Kiran could hardly imagine how her people reflected her kingdom.

Kiran sighed. Panic was beginning to set in again.

_Everyone already hates me. Just like back home. I shouldn’t have thought that here would be different. They’re all the same. The same._

“If I need to then I’ll cover up my markings,” Kiran shrugged off their thoughts. To appease the people. Anything so that no one hated them. Though the thought of covering their face was appealing. They didn’t like people staring at them, didn’t like their face. Thoughts of their previous fantasies of never having a face turned into thoughts of reality. Finally, they could hide forever.

“Cover them?” Alfonse asked. “You shouldn’t worry what the people think, Divine Summoner. What matters is that you’re the legendary Summoner. You’re destined to lead the two kingdoms to peace.” Kiran knew that he was only trying to make them feel better, and it did appreciate the sincerity, but it still felt **_bad_**. Just because it existed with these markings that were given to it by that damned gun people already had nasty things to say. Besides, it could hide away from everyone. Hide from people and from themselves.

Kiran shook their head. “If people are going to say those things about me then I should cover them. A helmet would work, or even some cloth to cover my mouth. I already have something covering my eyes.” Kiran looked back down at their hand, picking at their nails. “I don’t like looking at my face anyway.” It was a childish thought for someone who never had been to war. They regret saying it.

The room was silent for a moment. Anna leaned on the table looking at Kiran. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll put in an order to craft you something special.” Anna smiled. “One that will cover your markings but show people that you’re _The_ Summoner sent to mend the two kingdoms.”

Kiran felt guilty. Felt manipulative. “Thank you,” Kiran smiled as they looked up.

“It will take a few days, but until then you can wear a cloth over your face and keep your legs and arms covered.” Anna began to write something down on paper. A note for herself for the morning. Kiran looked back down to the table. They wanted to strip their skin down to peel away that horrible thing on their body.

One of their hands happened upon a piece on the map. Their finger tipping it back and forth. This almost didn’t seem real. This piece underneath their finger was almost fake. The dagger near them was only plastic. This map was fake also and the people in front of them delusions. “What am I going to do now?” it murmured.

“Excuse me?” Sharena leaned forward trying to listen to Kiran.

Kiran bit their lips. “What are you going to do with me?”

Alfonse blinked a few times as if what Kiran said was offensive. The way they said it almost sounded as if they were a mere item, to use then throw away. But it was what it felt. It had always been something to use, to discard, to be reused and thrown away again. Always the same, always the same. “Nothing,” he replied simply. “We’re not going to do anything with you, but we only ask for your help in ending the war.” Kiran didn’t reply.

_Well I guess I have to help them then. If I don’t then I could die. How can I say no anyway? I don’t want to be dead weight._

“Then what do you need help with?” Kiran looked up at Alfonse correcting their words. It wondered if the other wanted to look away from their horrible face, away from those blinded eyes, away from death.

“To summon more Heroes.” He was blunt, and Kiran appreciated that at least. “To lead us into battle and be our tactician.”

 “You want me to be your army’s tactician?” Kiran raised their brow. “You want me to… lead an entire army?” They couldn’t wrap their heads around that. Leading an army? That was impossible! They couldn’t lead an army into battle, sure to their own deaths but not to survive. Kiran blinked at Alfonse. It hardly saw itself living until the next month, what use could the walking dead give to the living?

“Not alone,” Anna folded her hands on the table. “We’ll be there to help you. But your tactics from our previous battle saved our lives. If it hadn’t been for you, we would have died.” Kiran was silent again. Their hands withdrawing from the piece that was set on the table.

**Kiran pointed for the army to move forward. Away from where Alfonse wanted them to go. He yelled at them yet they were Divine. They were above him. “This is a mistake,” he yelled as their army marched forward. It was to their death, he thought. Kiran was going to kill them. But Kiran stood strong. The sword in their hand pointing forward still as the soldiers marched. If it didn’t work, then they would die. All of them. But Anna put faith into the Summoner, she gave them their army and told Kiran to command them. Somehow she knew Kiran a better tactician than any of them. She knew of the secrets and knowledge that Kiran held within their holy body. Even if it were cursed, it had knowledge unlike any had ever dreamed.**

**They kept marching. Alfonse held his blade. Knuckles turning white. Sharena stared as the army split. A single warrior breaking from the lines as Kiran had instructed. His horse galloped across the field as their archers readied their arrows. He set the plains in flame. The smoke drawing up in the air clouding the sky. Emblian pegasus riders became blinded and fell to the arrows that shot them from above.**

**The army marched forward. Taking back the land that was no ones. Music of war could be heard in the distance. They saw Marth stand in the lines, his face grim as he watched the bloodshed he commanded.**

“We won’t force you into the position,” Alfonse handed his sister the book in his hand for her to study. “But we need all the help we can get.”

Kiran sighed. “I guess I can help you.” They rubbed their knuckles, watching as how the black markings moved with their skin from beneath the cloth. It was like a tattoo. A tattoo it almost never wanted. “And the Heroes? How should I go about summoning them?”

Sharena smiled. “There is a special place to summon Heroes. We consider it a holy site. We’ll take you there and show you how to summon other Heroes. Just like how the legends go.”

“But until then…” Alfonse looked between both his sister and Kiran. “We must help our Divine Summoner settle in. I suspect they’ll be here for some time.” Sharena nodded. “Tomorrow the King and Queen wish to see you—our father and mother.” Kiran turned pale. They’ve never been in front of royalty before. In front of important people, yes, but _royalty_ was something completely different. That was something that had died out a long time ago as did the customs people here used.

Kiran nodded. “You’ll have to give me pointers on how to act in front of them.” Sharena nodded her head. Kiran’s eyes looked downward at the clothing they wore from home. It was dirty. Blood was on their jeans and their shirt was torn. What a shame, it was their favorite shirt too. But it was lucky for them, at the very least, that they were not hurt in the war. “I think I need to get out of these clothes and take a bath. All this blood on me is making me sick.” They frowned down at their body, their body was becoming strange at the thought of blood on their body.

_Blood. Blood. Blood. The thing I’m so scared of. Everywhere. Blood._

Sharena nodded her head. “I’ll send word to the servants to prepare a bath for you.” She got up from her spot, walking to the door to call for a maid.  Kiran watched as she left. How she talked in a hushed whisper to another.

Eventually a maid ushered in. Her clothes were neat and her hair was very kept. It shadowed in comparison to Kiran’s unkempt body. Their hair disheveled and clothes dirtied from battle. It wondered how they looked in her eyes. She bowed her head to Kiran. “Most Holy.” Kiran frowned. It didn’t like to be called that.

“Astrid will take you to the bathing room.” Sharena motioned towards Astrid. Kiran nodded their head and got up to follow Astrid who promptly turned to the door to lead Kiran to their destination. As Kiran left they glanced back towards the war room. Sharena was reading the book of legends. Anna sat silently writing on paper. Alfonse stared as Kiran left. Their eyes met again, but Kiran tore away from the other to leave.

_What did I get myself into?_

* * *

 

Alfonse stood at Kiran’s door. The other was awake, that much could be said from the small glow from underneath the door. Yet he still paused, contemplating whether he should enter or not. The circumstances of their meeting was less than grand. Though he hailed them as divine, still he raged against them, raged against their words and tactics. He regretted it, deeply, but it was the heat of the battle that made their bodies burn against each other. It took a moment to gather himself, to finally knock against the wood of Kiran’s door. Thus he waited for a response.

“Come in,” he heard. So he opened it.

He saw Kiran sitting upon a chair looking out the window. In their hand was a dagger. Hair had been braided, yet the shorter portion unable to was kept waving and unkempt. He saw the markings clearer. The black ink swirling all over their face, down their neck, across their arms to their hands. It clung to their skin, wrapping around their nimble figure, the gentle caress of the illness and curse. Still it crawled further down their legs and kissed their feet. It was easier to see as they wore a simple tunic and shorts. Easier to see the scars on their knees and legs.  

Still it wore a blindfold on their face as they stared down at the book.

Cursed didn’t seem right to Alfonse. From where he stood Kiran looked holy. An angelic figure sat upon a chair reading a book sitting underneath the moon’s soft glow. Their white hair coupled with the markings made them appear eerie at best. It was the eyes that made them appear cursed. He wondered if all people back in their world had white hair and red eyes. Yet as Kiran looked up his breath stopped. Those eyes of red stared into his soul. It didn’t feel like it was them.

 “Hey,” they looked up towards Alfonse as he approached. “What’s up?”

Their casual tone of speaking was strange to Alfonse. “I wanted to thank you again. For saving our lives. If it hadn’t been for you I don’t know what we would have done against the Emblian soldiers.” He meant it. He truly did mean it as he spoke those words. But his voice was distant. It kept a barrier between he and the other. It was fear.

**“What do you think you’re doing!? You’re leading our men into their grave!”**

**“I know what I’m doing. I have a feeling about this. Just trust me, ok?”**

Kiran waved their hand. “I was just putting what I learned into action.” They scratched at their knuckles as they stared at Alfonse. It was so strange he couldn’t lie in front of them. “I studied military tactics for fun. My cousin taught me the best ways to win war games.”

Fun. The way they said it almost sounded as if war was a game back home. That playing war was normal and it was meant to be played as a game. It confused Alfonse. Here war was real, not common nor uncommon, but it was so real. Had Kiran never felt war? Felt bloodshed? Anna had told Alfonse before that Kiran had thrown up at the sight of another dead, fell into despair over blood. Maybe it wasn’t common in their world.

“I still wanted to thank you, Most Divine Summoner. Your efforts today saved countless people.” Kiran fell silent. Did he say something wrong?

“Do you really have to keep calling me that?” Kiran murmured as they turned their head from Alfonse. Turning towards the window. Turning towards the moon. The stars. “Do you have to keep calling me Divine?”

Alfonse blinked at Kiran. The way their body sat in the moonlight as the candle flickered felt divine. Why wouldn’t he call it divine?

_Do you believe you’re cursed?_

“Its custom and a social standard.” Alfonse spoke. It looked as if the other needed a lesson on social customs. They would have that lesson soon. “In our legends we call the Summoner ‘Divine’ and ‘Most Holy’.”

Kiran looked back towards Alfonse, a smile on their lips. “In public,” they corrected. “But alone you’re my equal.” Equal. Already they considered the prince equal to the most divine. To a holy person. He didn’t feel worthy. But maybe Kiran didn’t understand what those words implied. Maybe those words meant something different to them. Alfonse hardly thought that Kiran knew what those simple words meant. The weight of it all.

“Equal?” he blushed.

“Yeah. Everyone is. Maybe not in front of a King, and I do understand that you being a Prince sets you up to having to treat me with respect but when we’re alone you don’t need to do that.” Alfonse blinked. They were a lot more cultured than what he had originally made Kiran out to be.

“You seem to know a great deal about our customs from a world so vastly different from our own.” Alfonse looked at Kiran rather impressed.

Kiran smiled. “I’m guessing.” Alfonse made a confused expression. “My world is different, but historically you have similar customs to my world’s history. I studied it a lot. Not so much that specific time period, before that, but from what I’ve seen its mostly similar.” Kiran sighed, looking back out the window. “I just hope that your following isn’t corrupt.”

“Is yours?”

“Depends on who you ask. Historically a lot of our religions have history with corruption. Especially when you mix the political with the religion.” Kiran shrugged. It appeared as if the religion and the political aspect of their world were one in the same, or at least was most of the time. Alfonse could see how that could create issues as even their government was ruled partially by religion. “Its really complicated, even for me, and I studied it for over five years.”

How interesting. Part of him wanted to indulge more of his knowledge into what Kiran had to say. But he was silent. He didn’t want to get too close to the other. “It does seem rather complicated.” Kiran nodded their head in agreement. Alfonse smiled bitterly at the way Kiran sat. Melancholy was easy to be felt. Nostalgia for the world of their own. “Do you miss your world?”

“I do.” Kiran sighed. “I don’t either.” They frowned. It looked as if they were confused over what they should feel. Alfonse wanted to ask. Wanted to ask what was troubling them, but kept silent. He kept silent against the silence. Tried to keep the other an arm’s length away, at least spiritually. “I guess what I’m saying is that if I’d known this was going to happen I would be less inclined to want to go back home.” The prince raised his brow as Kiran looked back to him. “Its… complicated.” Kiran left it at that thus so did the prince.

“I understand.”

_I don’t understand._

Kiran nodded their head as they looked back down to their lap. A finger rubbed across the flat of the blade. “I hope that tomorrow will be better.”

Alfonse stared at Kiran. Stared at them and wondered how sheltered their life was. How much they puked at the sight of a dead body. Wondered how they shuddered against the blood that was on their clothes. He wondered if it was the first time they had already seen a dead body or wondered if this was the first time their life had been in danger. Was death so taboo in their world? Was blood so strange? Did they not bleed? “I can assure you there won’t be any battles tomorrow.”

Kiran was silent again. He felt bad for them. Horrible even. How much suffering did the other go through just for being brought here? Or was it the life they had before that made them so distant and cold. The way they stared at nothing almost seemed as if they had gone through more in their childhood than they had in one day. Was their childhood war? “Yeah. Tomorrow I meet the King and Queen. Your parents, right?” Kiran raised up their hand to look at the markings on their skin. How they twisted on them like some type of curse. Alfonse nodded his head.

“Tomorrow it is possible that you’ll be taken to summon a Hero in front of them.” Alfonse eyes trailed to Breidablik that sat on top of a table. “The high priest is rather particular of what the Summoner looks like and what is expected of them. You will be tested.” Alfonse stared at Kiran. He didn’t know what the test entailed, only that the high priest talked much that should the Summoner be brought here that it should be tested to see if they weren’t a fake or not. But that hardly concerned Alfonse, considering that Kiran had saved from their army from death. “You should get some rest.” Kiran frowned. A night owl? Or was it the thought of dreaming that shunned Kiran from sleep.

“I’ll try,” they muttered as they got up from their chair. Kiran stretched. A bone cracked. They twirled their foot. He heard more cracking. Was that normal? Alfonse still stared at Kiran. “What is it?”

“Your… eyes.” Alfonse muttered embarrassed. “Can you see?”

Kiran placed their hands on the black blindfold. “I’m not sure.” But yet it was obvious that they could still see all that was surrounding them. No matter what it was clear to them that they could see yet still decided to keep their eyes hidden. They slipped their fingers underneath the blindfold. He didn’t know what they looked like. “But I can still see you.”

Alfonse was still at those words. “How?”

Kiran shrugged as they let their fingers slip away from their face. “I just can, but not conventionally.” There was a long pause as Kiran got up from their seat to walk towards the dresser. “Thanks for coming to talk to me. I appreciate it.” They placed the dagger on it. Soon after they fumbled with the back of their neck to take off their necklace to lay it neatly down atop of the book. He noticed beside it were a pair of earrings.

“Of course, Divine Summoner.” He bowed his head as they turned. But as Alfonse looked up Kiran had a smile on their face, shaking their head childishly.

“You don’t need to do that.” They pressed their hand against their cheek. Rubbing the scarred skin of the marking.

He turned a little red. “Of—Of course,” was all he could manage. It was hard not to say otherwise, especially considering that for all his life he was taught to call the Divine Summoner ‘Divine’.

Kiran smiled still. “When you leave can you please leave the door open just a little if you can?” Alfonse nodded his head as he turned around to leave. He heard Kiran shuffle to their bed. Laying upon it as Alfonse left. He didn’t turn one last time only to shy away from the thing that the Summoner was becoming.


	2. Exhausted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What person do I see before me? That born of lies or that born of the truth? I wonder where I’ll find myself in this never ending bloodshed.

They were standing semi-naked in front of a maid with Sharena standing next to them. Her eyes flicking up and down the Summoner’s body as they were only dressed with a white shirt and undergarments. Kiran didn’t care that they were almost nude in front of others, they never particularly cared if someone saw them naked, but it felt weird knowing that Sharena was a princess and she chose to stand here with Kiran, to subject herself to watching Kiran dress themselves. Though Kiran supposed that Sharena was merely interested in the markings. The way they formed up and down Kiran’s body yet only kept to the left side of their form were somewhat mystifying. Kiran itself could not help but twist and twirl their body after they bathed last night, looking at the way the markings formed.

The maid dabbed perfume upon Kiran. Around the neck, upon the wrists, and one under their lips. It was embarrassing being treated like royalty when they had once been living in such a horrible position prior to their coming of divinity. “These clothes should fit you,” Sharena motioned towards the clothes on the bed. It was blue with gold trim. A cloak laid next to the other clothes. Intricate markings were sewn into the white and blue sewn into the inside of the cloth. The design looked rather similar to the armor and capes that Askrian knights wore. Though these felt even more divine than the armor Kiran had seen.

The Summoner walked towards the clothes. Putting them on and finding that they fit rather well. They tugged at the leather gloves, fixed their shirt, and began putting on the boots that were set aside for them. They wondered where their own clothes went, the clothes from back home. “The shirt is a little tight,” Kiran spoke as they the maid began to wrap a leather strap around Kiran’s torso. Although it felt tight at least they could breathe in it.

“You’ll have to wait until we can get you properly fitted with clothes,” she watched as Kiran put on the cloak. Having a hard time figuring out how it was put on and how to go about putting it on. Sharena giggled and walked over to help them. “How does that fit you?” Kiran put their arms in front of them to see how well it fit. Almost perfectly. It was just a little bit too big.

Kiran looked down at the robes, the undershirt, staring down at the way the gold mixed with the brown and blues and whites. “A little big,” Kiran frowned as they walked towards the mirror staring at themselves.

Sharena laughed as Kiran looked up towards her. “Its supposed to be like that,” she walked towards Kiran and stood beside them as they looked in the mirror. Her hair was braided yet she lacked the normal armor that she usually wore. Instead she only wore a white shirt and white pants, her hair braided. The princess began to fuss over Kiran’s hair. “You look just like the Summoner in our legends, Kiran.” She walked around them, fixing their robe a little. She pressed her hands down the Summoner’s robes, fixing the small imperfections. “There. Perfect.”

The Summoner’s eyes glanced back at the mirror. Their markings were so stark against the white they wore. Yet their hair matched perfectly with it. The neatly braided hair and the rest that couldn’t be braided were brushed but still naturally curled. “I’m still nervous,” Kiran turned around to pick the necklace off from their dresser and put it on. They’d never go a day without wearing it. “I’ve never been to something so formal like this.”

Sharena rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t worry. Alfonse might be a stiff ass but my father and mother are much more lax than him.” Kiran couldn’t help but relax at Sharena’s gentle and relaxed aura. It reminded them of their friends back home. “Its only the priest that you should worry about. He’s more stern than my brother.” Kiran turned around as they began putting in their earrings.

“Hmm…” The Summoner paused in thought for a moment. “What are their names again?” Kiran furrowed their brows as they tried to recall what they were called.

“King Elli and Queen Sif. The priest’s name is Adam.”

“Ok, I think I can remember.” Kiran nodded their head. They were Norse names. The religion to which they followed dearly. How ironic that their religion would be the center of this world—and Adam, the first human to be created according to Genesis. “When I enter the room what should I do?”

“Just follow your gut.” Sharena produced a face mask, a piece of cloth etched with gold designs upon it matching the robe that Kiran wore. “Anna will be walking with you down the hallway.” She walked around Kiran, putting the cloth over Kiran’s mouth to cover the markings etched onto their skin. “You might have to take that off, but for now see how it goes.” She took the hood of the robe and put it over Kiran’s head. “There. You look _perfect_ , Kiran.” Sharena smiled at Kiran as she walked back around to look at them.

The Summoner blushed and looked down a little. “Thank you, Sharena.” There was a knock on the door, Kiran turned towards it. “Come in.” The door opened and Anna entered. There was a knock on the door as they looked up. Anna entered. She was dressed in her armor and smiled at the Summoner as they looked towards her. “Kiran, you look amazing in that.” The Summoner blushed a little looking down.

Sharena looked towards Anna, “Is everything prepared already?” Anna nodded her head. “Oh, I have to finish getting ready. I’ll see you at the ceremony, Kiran! Good luck!” She waved her hand and exited the door, the maid following behind her.

Anna smiled after Sharena, then looked towards Kiran. “You really do look good in those robes. Its like it was meant to be.”

Kiran laughed a little. “You think so?”

_Was this my true destiny?_

Anna nodded her head. “Absolutely.” Kiran’s eyes looked down at the markings, those horrible, disgusting, markings. Kiran nodded their head and walked over to Anna. She kept a smile on her face, even though the markings were apparent. Especially the one above Kiran’s eye that made it appear so much like a second one. Their appearance with the markings was almost horrifying, but at least the summoning robes did well to hide the rest of it all, especially with the hood up. “Are you ready to meet the King and Queen?”

At least everyone’s compliments did well to soothe Kiran’s anxiety. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Still its heart raced at the prospect of meeting royalty, even if Sharena and Alfonse were princess and prince it was different should it be the owner of the lands of Askr. Kiran was terrified.

“Well, let’s get going.” Anna pointed outside the door.

“Yeah,” Kiran moved. Picking up Breidablik and held it so close yet kept the thing so spiritually far away from them. The cursed thing that wretched machinery.

“Everything is set up,” Anna closed the door as the Summoner exited. She walked down the halls and Kiran followed. “You’ll meet His Majesty Lord Elli and Her Majesty Queen Sif in the throne room. The Most Divine Adam will be accompanying Lord Elli. There will mostly be lords of the lands and the people of the court attending the ceremony, but there might be peasants also attending. Either way, a lot of people will be there.” Anna looked at Kiran who tried their best to follow close to Anna as she weaved through the grand hallways.

It was hard not to look up at the paintings that were hung in the room. To not take a closer look at the statues that were placed at the side. To trace the beautiful markings upon the armor that both knights and the stands adorned. To grab the beautiful swords, pikes, spears, and halberds off the stands and hold them close to its body and wonder how a creation so fine existed. That knights that the two of them did pass dropped to their knees as Kiran looked at them, it felt so strange to be considered so holy. It wanted nothing more than to wander the castle halls, to lay underneath the paintings of themselves—the Summoner of legend, and wish or pray that the curse would be gone. It could feel the illness, the affliction on their body. Though Kiran would never say it, the unrest in the night ate at their mind.

Breidablik spoke to it.

In its dreams it spoke. Words it could not understand, but yet could. Those words spoke of affliction, made the Summoner wrestle in its sleep. Forced them awake and only stare at the sun rise over the kingdom as it sobbed to the moon waiting for answers. Breidablik forced Kiran to relive the past, to remember the horrible childhood. Kiran looked to the painting of another Summoner it passed. Their face was blurred, the hood hiding the face. Their palm was out for a Hero to touch their hand. They kneeled upon the floor. What Hero was it?

 “When we get to the throne room…” Anna began as they kept walking. Kiran was dragged away from their thoughts to look back at Anna. “…you’ll walk to the throne and stop near the steps and drop to your knees in a bow. The rest you have to wing but I’m sure King Elli will understand if you don’t do everything by the book.” Anna winked at Kiran as they arrived at the grand doors to the throne room. Intricate metal work was infused into the door as was the paintings within it. The knights that stood in front of the door tried their best not to drop to the floor as did the other’s. They stood at attention, looking at the Summoner as if they were god reincarnated. Kiran was struggling not to jump out of their skin and run away from this. Run to the paintings, hide in the armor, to cry into their blankets. It was so hard not to run away. They clutched Breidablik in their hand, it was almost shaking in the Summoner’s grasp. “Ready?”

Kiran nodded their head. Anna made a gesture with their hand and the knights opened the door. A hushed silence fell over the throne room as Kiran looked on. Their feet frozen to the floor. A blue carpet with ornate gold trim led the way to the throne. The throne itself that the king sat upon was gold and had blue fabric falling to the side. The queen’s throne looked the same. To their side sat the prince and princess of Askr, Alfonse and Sharena.

Kiran took a deep breath and began to walk down the hall. Their footsteps almost echoed through the throne room as they stared down the length of the hall. Their eyes flicked to the people who stood at the side who bowed their head, some kneeling at the sight of Kiran others uttering prayers and holding out their hands for Kiran to touch. It was all so terrifying. Part of the Summoner was glad that a hood covered their eyes while a mouthpiece covered their mouth. It was easy to hide the fear as they nearly stumbled blindly down the hall. So they stared forward trying to dissect every detailed in the royal family.

They all wore white with gold trim and golden jewelry. Likely actual gold since they were royals. The King and Queen wore fine furs and beautiful embroidered cloth with lace. Their children, on the other hand, had a simpler white cloth donned on them yet still retained the look of a royal. They wore no armor besides the long cape and their wing-like pouldrens. Each their crowns, however, looked almost like an olive wreath.

Kiran stopped near the steps of the throne room. Just as Anna said they bowed their head and knelt upon the floor. “King Elli…” murmured Kiran looking up from the ground. This was so strange compared to what Kiran was used to. Shaking hands was usually the norm, or even a small curt bow of their head should they unable to bow. That’s what they were used to. Never something so _royal_.

Though the king had other plans. He stood from his throne and walked down the steps. The other royals were still. The king himself was a particular looking fellow. Long dark blue hair just barely beginning to grey and grey eyes. An old face yet not old enough to be considered old or young enough to be considered young. He stopped just in front of Kiran, their long cape flowing down their back. “You must be the Great Hero, the Divine Summoner Kiran, that my children have spoken about.”

They had to stop themselves from nodding their head. “Yes. My name is Kiran.”

The king took off Kiran’s hood. Kiran was still. He took off the Summoner’s mask. Kiran wanted to look away. He saw the hideous markings on their face. Those disgusting markings. He reached for the blindfold but Kiran flinched away. He didn’t move to take that off. “And these markings were given to you by Breidablik?”

“Yes, they were seared onto my skin when I summoned Virion.” Kiran swallowed. Their mouth was becoming dry. person walked to the king’s side, he looked rather priestly. It must have been Adam the priest that Sharena told them about. The one that was particular on the Summoner. What difference did it make? They summoned Virion, they saved the king’s children. That enough should be worth their time. The priest figure whispered something into the king’s ear, looking at Kiran as if they were dirty. Elli nodded his head as the priest figure spoke.

“Our legends never spoke of a figure donned in markings that would save us.” Elli looked down at Kiran. Their heart skipped a beat. The priest looked pleased with himself. “However, I will not consider you a false messiah until I see you in action. I want to see for myself if you truly are the summoner.” The priest looked somewhat upset at the king. Perhaps he wanted everything by the book, exactly how the legend foretold.

_Heh. Probably some white man who is horribly in love with the king’s daughter and marries her and his divine blood is passed through the genes. Typical. Too bad for him._

 “Of course,” Kiran bowed their head again. “I understand your concern.” The distrust. It reminded him of Alfonse. Was this where Alfonse gained his distrust in others?

King Elli nodded his head as the priest moved away from him. “Stand. We will show you to the holy grounds. Come.”

* * *

 

Kiran stood in front of the great pillar they called their holy grounds. Cradled in Kiran’s arms was an orb. A fine piece of work that churned colors within the glass. They held Breidablik closer still but the orb brought some peace of mind to Kiran. They had heard from some lords that followed that the orb contained the soul of a Hero, some others said that it was the catalyze for Breidablik to fully form a Hero into their world. Kiran didn’t care all it knew was that it brought them a peace of mind.

“So I, shoot and a Hero will appear?” Anna nodded her head as Kiran placed the orb into the socket of the pillar. They looked up to the large arcs overheard, almost like a gateway to another world. It was so breathtaking. It wanted to stay here, forever. “That doesn’t seem hard.” Kiran mused as they stood back from the pillar, backing up to the center of the circle staring at the pillar the glowed colors. It looked like Yggdrasil. They stared Breidablik down using the holy weapon—the cursed weapon. The Summoner still wasn’t sure how to go about the King and Queen that stood near. The royal court worthy enough to be present stood. They saw Kiran’s markings. “Ok, I think I got it.” Anna nodded her head and ran towards the small group to the side.

Orbs was the ammunition. Breidablik was just a gun. Shoot at the pillar. Out comes a Hero. Simple!

So they pulled the trigger. Their body pulsed with energy, the markings on their arms burned as another human was summoned. A spray of white light formed and fell upon the ground. The pillar oozed that same light. The orb shattered and spilled a disgusting yolk from the inside. It dripped down from the center and slithered in that light. A being formed much in the same way Virion did. It twirled and stretched. Twitching as if that orb had been an egg harboring a baby one that would turn into a full human in seconds. The vision almost looked like the birth of a grown human being. It was somehow so strange yet oddly satisfying to watch a human break free from the womb of light. Light spilled from the womb and it spilled out onto the floor flowing into the intricate markings within the stone beneath their feet. It rushed across the ancient stone like liquid. Soaking everyone to their ankles flowing into the Summoner’s markings. It felt the blood of another felt their soul enter Kiran’s. A human appeared, their body raising from a crouch and twisting in the light. Long locks of blond hair pooled down their head, their blue robes dripping that white light.

 Kiran was silent as they approached. Their tongue itching to speak.

_Rage. Rage against the dying of the light._

Ah.

He was beautiful.

He clutched his staff. Held it close to his body as he peered around the place confused. His eyes looked around the place, looked as the light faded from this Earthly plane of existence. It seeped into the stone, filled the cracks of the intricate designs, and left this unholy realm.  Kiran stayed firm in place in the circle as it all faded. The other man finally spotted Kiran, and approached. His steps were careful, calculated, yet also somewhat clumsy as if this was the first time he was learning how to walk. This feeling, it was so holy. So different compared to the markings all over their skin, so different than when Virion had come into this world. So different from when Kiran had entered this world.

**It was violent and hard. When Anna had birthed her wish Kiran had entered this world not in light but in blood. Her hand bled from the offering to Breidablik. The womb that Kiran had left was red and filled in blood. They gagged and puked all over as that blood disappeared from this world.**

**Filthy. Filthy. Filthy.**

 Everyone was silent except for the man’s footsteps.

_No wonder they call this holy. I feel… holy. For the first time in my life._

“Excuse me.” His voice was soft. He spoke as if speaking would break the world in half. This emotion that swelled around them. Kiran couldn’t look back at the other three. They didn’t care they wanted this feeling to last.

“Hello.” The Summoner offered the warmest greeting to him.

_I feel like I’ve known you forever._

Did he feel the same? The smile should indicate as much. “Ah… Hello.” He felt calm in Kiran’s presence. Was it because his soul had entered Kiran’s? “My name is Lucius.” He reached out to the other. Kiran did also. They pressed their palms together their fingertips touching as they stared into each other’s eyes.

_Does he feel this? This holy light?_

“My name is Kiran. I summoned you here to help us.” Their hands lingered together. Fingers slipping through each other’s to grasp one another’s hand as they stared into each other’s eyes. “Would you help us?” They would not force them into this pact should the other wanted out. Though Kiran wasn’t sure the other could refuse.

Lucius closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I have already pledged my services to another.” Lucius slipped down onto his knees his hand still holding Kiran’s. “But I will stay to help mend your wounded.”

“I understand. Please.” They motioned towards the other three. “They’ll explain everything.” Lucius rose from the ground, and gave one final smile to Kiran before they left. Their hand lingering one second more as they walked away. His eyes kept onto them until they looked towards their merry band, waiting for the people of the kingdom to receive Lucius. Red eyes glinted towards the others. Watching as Lucius bowed his head to the King, kissing his hand. Anna approached Kiran again, running past Lucius as he made his way towards Alfonse and Sharena.

Kiran felt at ease. “That was intense. How do you feel?” Anna placed a hand on the Summoner’s back.

“I don’t know.” Kiran spoke softly as they stared at Breidablik. It felt as if they were high on drugs. Ecstasy. “I feel free, like all my regrets are just gone.” That was the only way they could explain. They closed their eyes and sighed. “Did you feel this way when you summoned me?”

Anna wasn’t sure how to reply. “Er… no. I did a ritual. Not so much a summon.” Anna looked down to the hand she cut for her blood. “It hurt a lot.” Kiran didn’t reply. “But it looks like you’re doing fine.” Kiran nodded their head as they reopened their eyes. “King Elli wishes for you to do another summon. Not that he thinks it was a fluke, but our Higher Priest wants to be sure.”

Kiran nodded their head. It looked down at their markings. Strange, they seemed a little bigger. “Tell the King that I’ll do another summon.” Anna nodded her head and made a sign with her hand. Another priest walked down to them, holding in their hand a towel that held another orb.

_I want to feel this way again._

So Kiran took this orb, held it close to their body as both Anna and the priest backed away from the Summoner. They walked to place the orb safely into Yggdrasil once more. The yolk inside was still and quiet, unlike the thunder that brewed in Lucius’s. So Kiran drew back from the statue.

They closed their eyes as they took aim. They fired again. A flash of light and another womb formed. The orb breaking apart, spilling from it yolk, another person began to form as it writhed within the floor. That puss-like stuff drew into Kiran, another pact was made as the womb was slow to turn into a person. The light broke. It was more violent this time. It sprayed out from the body like a storm, splitting every way possible. In its own way Kiran too thought this was beautiful. They were still as a man stepped from the spilling light. It dripped from him like fluid. He almost looked drenched.

As he stepped out he looked as if he was meant to be here. Unlike Lucius who was confused for a time, the man who was garbed in armor took a step from the womb from which he came from rather calmly. He observed his surroundings his eye lifting as he looked towards Kiran. They saw the man’s face. He was old and his face had a single scar reaching from his chin towards his eye. One look and it spelled all. War was in his bloodline, death dripped from his body. Kiran wondered what he saw as he approached them.

“Hello.” Kiran spoke softly. Their turn to break the silence. The other seemed suspicious of Kiran but still they held out their hand for the other to take whether he was to hold it gently or kiss it. “My name is Kiran.” He stopped in front of them.

_God, he’s so tall. I didn’t think there would be tall people during these ages._

“My name is Gunter.” He took the Kiran’s hand in his. A gentle grasp as if he were holding the sword of the most divine. “I am a knight from Nohr.” He was silent for a moment staring at Kiran with a careful eye. “I wish to know, are you… real?”

_Real? Am I? I can’t be sure. Whether I’m real or not doesn’t matter, but in the end does it matter if everything was real? Do you know if I’m real? Does Anna?_

“I think I am,” Kiran gave Gunter a bitter smile. “I try not to think too hard about that stuff.” Kiran squeezed Gunter’s hand, “But this feels real. So yeah, I am.” Gunter seemed to approve of their answer, smiling and nodding at the particular way they spoke.

It seemed to get a chuckle from the man. “I suppose the wording of my question was wrong. But you are quite right in your answer.” Kiran nodded their head glad that the other approved of their almost cryptic way of talking. Kiran opened their mouth to speak, to motion Gunter over to their party, a weird feeling was beginning to swell in their stomach as if they needed to puke. The holy feeling subsided quickly at the other’s quip and it was now they were beginning to feel the side effects of Breidablik. Of this curse. So they clenched Gunter’s hand face twisting for a moment as they began to feel light headed.

“Uhm.” Kiran’s luster was fading. The buzz was wearing thin. They felt faint. “I…” The other man’s smile slowly disappeared. Concern now showed on his face. “Don’t feel good.” Black consumed them. Their legs gave out and darkness took them. Strange they didn’t feel themselves hit the ground before they had entirely been taken away to another world for the brief moment of fainting. It took them a moment for them to come to. They couldn’t see anything as they felt hands on them. Shouting from everywhere. A body held Kiran close.

_What the hell. What’s going on?_

They opened their eyes to stare at the man whom they just summoned. Lucius was near also, pressing a hand to their chest. The markings were searing deep into their skin. It felt them grow. The lines thickened. The somewhat bare markings that kissed their skin covered more. The eye on their eyelid became more apparent, more disgusting. They felt feverish and sick.

“Good, you’re awake.” Lucius muttered. Kiran turned their head. Alfonse was almost hovering over Kiran. From behind Lucius he could see the other royalty muttering, the king speaking to his daughter, the queen holding her daughter’s shoulders.

Kiran attempted to pick their head up from Gunter’s arms. “What… happened?” Lucius shushed Kiran and pressed their hand against Kiran’s forehead laying the Summoner back down on Gunter’s lap.

“Now, a fall like that. You shouldn’t move around so much.” Gunter chided Kiran as Lucius mended them. Their soul hurt. The markings burned.

“Will they be fine?” Alfonse looked to Lucius concerned. Kiran almost smiled at how concerned Alfonse was.

Lucius looked down at the Summoner. “Lord Kiran will be fine.” He took his hand away from the other’s chest. “They need to rest. No more summoning I’m afraid.” Lucius rose from his spot and Kiran felt a hole from where his hand left. So they shuffled around a little and attempted to rise from Gunter but the elder man was obviously not going to let Kiran walk.

“Lord Kiran, I’m afraid walking is not a viable option in your situation.” Gunter looked down at Kiran who stared back at him. Red eyes peered into his soul, he felt it quiver. “If you would have me, I shall carry you.” Kiran opened their mouth to reply but closed it. There was no reason to argue against it neither was there a reason to argue for it. So they sighed nodding their head. So Gunter picked Kiran up. Actually picked them up in their arms to carry around. The companionship was almost strange. They were weak to do anything or speak so merely they laid against Gunter’s armor. It supposed it was the only thing it could do.

They looked towards Alfonse. “Alfonse. Breidablik.” Kiran looked towards the wretched thing. That horrible thing that afflicted Kiran in this way. Alfonse looked down at Breidablik and paused for a moment. It was as if he was terrified to touch it knowing of all the things that it did to Kiran. But he did. He touched the cursed object. A frown crossed his face as he picked it up, wrapping it in his cape as if to get as far away from him and it as possible yet still holding it.

Kiran closed their eyes. “I really don’t… feel good.” Lucius patted Kiran’s arm.

“You must stay awake, Lord Kiran.” They pressed their hand against Kiran’s cheek as Gunter looked down at them. “It’s imperative you stay awake.” Kiran nodded their head.

Alfonse looked at Kiran and opened his mouth to speak but was cut short as Elli walked towards them. The king stood near Alfonse his leery eye upon Kiran who barely was able to look the king in the eye. So it looked to Alfonse instead finding he was a better sight for sore eyes.

_I must look so pathetic. I must have failed him._

“I must apologize to you, Great Hero.” Kiran paused a moment as the king motioned the Summoner who took a moment to register what had been spoken. “Your summoning has proved to us that you are indeed the Summoner of legend brought here to save us from impending doom from the Emblian Empire.” The king bowed his head to Kiran. Knelt in front of them even as dazed as they were. “Please, forgive me of my folly.” The Summoner looked to the crowd of royals. They dare not approach Kiran, for they feared the curse upon their skin.

_Am I... really that important to you?_

It was so quiet as the Summoner looked at the king. It felt so wrong. “No one should bow to me.” Kiran closed its eyes. “I’m… your equal.” They saw Alfonse make a strange face at Kiran but it ignored him. “I see you _all_ as my equal.” The king took Kiran’s hand limp and stared up at their face. He only stared at those markings. Those beautiful, disgusting, markings. “I’m sorry, but… I can’t speak anymore. I feel so weak…”

“Our Divine Summoner, you are too kind.” King Elli kept his head bowed as he spoke to Kiran. A smile couldn’t help but creep onto the Summoner’s face. “Divine Summoner we humble ourselves to your presence. In these dire times it is imperative they we ask for your help. But it is for another day to discuss.” He stood, motioning down the steps. “Please, Gunter. Take Our Divine Summoner to the horses. A knight shall accompany you.”

Gunter nodded his head. “As you command, King.” Gunter turned towards the holy steps and walked away from the group. Lucius was close to follow and Alfonse was almost tempted to join them for their journey. He moved towards Gunter but was stopped by his father. The Summoner could only watch as Elli spoke to his son and wonder what the other said. A knight came running after them to lead the way. A sigh escaped Kiran’s lips as they closed their eyes again. The

“I’m sorry,” Kiran murmured as Gunter descended down the stairs.

Lucius glanced towards it. “Whatever for?”

Kiran was silent.

_Why am I apologizing? For fainting? For forcing them into this world?_

“I can name… a few things.” Gunter glanced down to Kiran.

“If it is because you summoned us to this world, think nothing of it. I assure you, this isn’t the first time I was thrown in a world so vastly different from my own.” Kiran was silent as Gunter spoke. They wondered what Gunter meant by that. Had he been a victim of Hero summoning before this? “But now you must rest.”

“I agree with Gunter. You must rest your soul from Breidablik.” Kiran shivered as Lucius spoke. “ _We_ shall worry over our new home ourselves. Now, you must rest.”

Kiran sighed. Another apology was itching on their tongue but they felt too weak to speak. Instead they nodded their head, their thoughts drifting to home.

_I wonder. I wonder what my family would think of me now. My family… my friends… I miss you._

* * *

 

“Excuse me,” Alfonse walked to Gunter. He had been sitting upon a bench in the outdoor training area with his axe laid out on his lap oiling the fine weapon. A fine piece of work the order had given to him as a welcome gift. He had ditched the Nohrian armor he wore when summoned and opted for something more comfortable to wear. A light tunic and pants. The suit of armor must be a heavy thing to wear especially for someone old like Gunter. Still he held himself so easy in that armor even while carrying Kiran. It was strange to see him not in the Nohrian metal.

Gunter looked up from the blade to Alfonse who stood in front of him. “Lord Alfonse,” he bowed his head in respect. “How may I serve you?” It was a strange thing to behold. To the royal court Gunter was a noble yet it was obvious that the man didn’t consider himself one. Still he bowed his head to Alfonse like a knight would to a prince not in the way a knight would to his fellow knight.

It was _very_ apparent Gunter didn’t see himself as a noble. “I was wondering if you happen to know where the Divine Summoner was. He is not in his room.” Alfonse brought his hands to his back staring at Gunter who paused in thought.

Gunter was silent for a moment thinking of all the places Kiran could be hiding in. “Hmm. Perhaps Lord Kiran is with Lucius?” The Hero set the rag to the side and stared at Alfonse. “I had last seen Lucius in the gardens.” Alfonse nodded his head and left Gunter to what he had been last doing. The cape whipped behind him and his search for Kiran began once more. It was concern that sent Alfonse to look for Kiran, after their fall Alfonse grew worried over the Summoner. Sharena thought it cute that the prince would be so concerned over Kiran but it was only the fact that Kiran had looked so sickly after their fall that Alfonse couldn’t help but be concerned. It was also the matter of returning Breidablik to its rightful owner. Yet when he had finally been torn from his duties to return the holy piece Kiran was not found in their bed. Of course he opted to leave Breidablik upon the place that the Summoner had last put it before they had turned in for the night, it still concerned Alfonse to turn to search for them.

So he went to Anna and was told she had not seen them since the summoning session. Then he went to his mother since she might want to sit with Kiran to talk to them and listen to the stories of other worlds. Then he turned to Adam since he was likely the sort to pull Kiran from their sleep to discuss divine things or things like that. Yet Adam had yelled at Alfonse for interrupting his prayer, forced him to apologize to not only him but the Great Summoner (which Alfonse thought it funny since he was _looking_ for Kiran in question). Thus his search led to the Heroes in particular.

Though he should have suspected Kiran would hang about with the Heroes. Legend had foretold that the Summoner had a special kinship with those they summoned. An attachment or partnership per say. One could even say it was pact-like. It was a normal thing maybe a healthy thing for Kiran to indulge in the Heroes in question and talk to them but it still worried Alfonse to see Kiran put their health in danger.

Alfonse entered the gardens and took his time walking down the path. He bowed his head to the few nobles he passed as they did also. With hasty footsteps he made his way through the flowers keeping a lookout for Kiran and Lucius. He tried desperately to dodge every noble that wanted to speak with him, made false excuses and made his way out. It was an easy thing to do considering his life as a noble. All the secrets he shared with Sharena to dodge every noble arrow. But it only took the sound of Kiran’s soft giggle and Lucius’s laughter to bring Alfonse to attention. He spotted the pair sitting on a bench, a nobleman speaking to the two of them. Kiran sat holding a deck in their hand and Lucius held a card in his other. The noble spoke to Kiran, his head fairly bowed in their presence. A noblewoman came slowly to join the two as Alfonse watched near the tree. So Alfonse watched as Kiran spoke to them, waving their hands about, pointing to the deck, and taking cards out as if to foretell their fortune. Watched as they played with the cards, showing the nobles what they were. He squinted trying to get a better look as the nobles laughed at Kiran’s giddiness and Lucius’s calm demeanor.

Being so observant of Kiran and Lucius he had not been aware of the person that walked so calmly next to Alfonse to join his observations. “Prince Alfonse,” he heard a voice. The prince jumped as if he was doing something naughty. Alfonse turned to see Virion. His heart was beating. The Hero smiled at Alfonse.

“Virion,” Alfonse breathed fixing his cape and collar. “I did not hear you approach.” He placed his hand upon his sword hilt trying to play off his small scare.

“I have been told I have a terribly quiet step.” Virion smiled at Alfonse. “Though it does beg the question—whatever made you so scared of my presence? Only the guilty try to hide their fright.” Virion stepped around Alfonse to take a better look to what the prince had been seeing. He only glanced at the pair that sat upon the bench who were still gleefully talking to the nobles. Alfonse stood nervously as Virion looked back at the prince. He made no attempt for excuses as it was already clear as to what he was doing. “Spying on our lovely Summoner now, are you?” There was no point to hide the truth or bury it deeper with lies. “Could it be… you’re enamored by them?”

He couldn’t help but gawk at Virion. What a blunt way of putting it! He was absolutely not enamored by Kiran, merely concern brought him to look for the most Divine Summoner. “Absolutely not!” Alfonse refuted. “I am only concerned for Divine Kiran’s wellbeing.”

Virion’s smile grew. He could only imagine the things that played through Virion’s head. “You are doing horrible at hiding it. Look at you: Staring at Kiran from afar as they show off to the nobles with their trusted Hero by their side. The way you look at Kiran from a fixed gaze—so distant and yet I see that flame aglow in your eyes.” The passionate speech from Virion made Alfonse frown. What kind of Hero was this? An archer or a poet spewing things of love? “Please, do not let me stop you.” Virion made a gesture with his hand.

Temptation to turn back to look at Kiran was overwhelming. But Alfonse had to step away from the tree from which he spied on to fully approach Kiran. Still that grin was on Virion, and it made Alfonse almost fume. What did Virion know of his intention? There was no attachment to the Summoner. Only concern. Of course he already knew the unspoken words of what Virion would say.

 _Love blossoms in the strangest of places!_ or _Concern is only the budding flower of passion._

Granted he didn’t know the Hero particularly well but it seemed something he would say. Sharena often times spewed the same love sickness from her mouth when sweet on a Hero herself. All he could do was roll his eyes at the puppy love.

So as the prince’s gaze turned back to Kiron there was a small jealousy that managed its way into his heart. It was for the kinship in particular that Lucius and Kiran had blossomed between each other in only the few hours they had known each other. For a moment he thought back to his own kinship with one of his friends. One he had longed to see even after all those years. How easy Kiran was trusting to others. It almost made him bitter. So Alfonse walked towards the two, a careful step as he approached the nobles and the two Heroes upon the bench still talking merrily among each other. Kiran was without their robes. The markings were apparent upon their face, had it not for the gloves or face mask on their mouth the curse would have been easily seen. But even with their face mostly covered their eyes spelled out much joy from the way it sparkled in how they spoke to the nobles and showed their cards.

Perhaps it was bitterness that urged Alfonse forward even still. He stopped near the nobles, Kiran’s gaze catching him and a smile etched on their lips. “Alfonse,” the Summoner spoke. The nobles turned to their prince.

“Divine Summoner,” he bowed his head to the other and to the nobles. It was strange for Alfonse to be noticed by Kiran even if they could not see.  

“Oh,” one of the nobles spoke with a giggle. “Prince Alfonse, it is such a pleasure to see you out on this fine evening. The Most Holy had been reading us our fortunes.”

“Fortunes?” Alfonse kept a smile on his face.

“Yes,” the other noble laughed. “With these tarot cards. Our Most Holy can read them.” The noble looked down at the card that Kiran had previously given them showing the card to Alfonse. It was a reverse fool. The prince had never indulged himself in such frivolous things as he focused his studies elsewhere to the Heroes or to the blade. But he did have some knowledge on tarots. Never their particular meaning.

The noble handed the card back to Kiran to which they shuffled it back into their deck. “I’m only doing small readings,” the Summoner sighed gently. “If you want I can do yours.”

Alfonse shook his head, “That won’t be necessary.” The prince let his wrist rest upon his sword’s hilt. “I had actually come here looking for you, Divine.” Kiran tipped their head to the side, “I wish to speak to you.”

Kiran looked from the nobles to Lucius. They knew well it was a private conversation so they rose from their seat handing the tarot cards to Lucius. The healer took these cards with a smile as their touch lingered, and Kiran looked to Alfonse. Alfonse stepped to the side as the Summoner walked to Alfonse, slowly. They still seemed affected by Breidablik. Alfonse gave a final bow to the nobles letting Lucius to the wolves and turned to join Kiran as they walked through the gardens.

“I hadn’t realized how easy you are to recover.” The prince murmured as they walked slowly through the flowers.

Kiran glanced towards Alfonse. “Well, taking a walk to get some fresh air is better than staying in that room.” Alfonse noticed how much better Kiran looked in comparison to when he last saw it. Their skin less pale yet they still shook in the wind like a twig in a tree. “Lucius said it would be good for me to take a walk outside. For my soul, that’s what he said.”

Alfonse looked at Kiran as they walked. Their body looked so weak and frail. From only using Breidablik three times in only two days, Alfonse couldn’t help but feel fear for the other. That fear had been realized as Kiran tripped a little. A frustrated noise escaped the Summoner as Alfonse pressed his hands against Kiran’s back, holding its arm. “Are you sure you don’t feel unwell? It seems a little strenuous on your body to already walk.”

Kiran shook their head, “I’ll be fine. I’ve always had this problem. My legs are just… bad.” Kiran steadied themselves and looked at Alfonse. “Don’t worry too much about me.”

Alfonse looked confused at the Summoner. Their health was immensely important to everyone not just Alfonse. The entire kingdom let alone the king himself found Kiran’s health to be above him, yet the other brushed their bad health as nothing to be of concern. “Your health still concerns me.” He swore he could hear Virion turning in his grave. “I wish only to see you healthy, Divine Summoner.”

 “I can take care of myself, Alfonse.” The Summoner smiled at Alfonse, “I appreciate the concern but you don’t need to baby me.”

Alfonse almost looked almost offended. Were they really taking such a watchful eye over Kiron that they thought they were being babied by the prince? “Baby you?” he repeated. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Yes.” The Summoner was rather blunt. “I understand I’m the legendary summoner, messiah, divine being—whatever—but I’m still human.” Alfonse was silent as Kiran sighed and began to walk again through the garden. The false eye the marking produced showed just slightly from beneath the blindfold. A calm washed over Kiran’s emotions, so too did it Alfonse. “I’ll go back to my room to rest,” was what it finally announced. It seemed to finally accept its fate that it was still unfit to already walk and decided thus to rest more. Slowly it wrapped its arm through Alfonse so that he could lead them.

“I shall accompany you to your room then.” They talked, mostly about the state of Kiran’s quick decay or even how nice the day was. Their walk back to the room was slow, considering the way Kiran walked but it was at least calm. So as they walked and talked his thoughts were dragged elsewhere. More specifically dragged to Kiran’s appearance of those markings and of Breidablik’s mark.

So he wondered, as he stared at Kiran.

Were they even still human at this point?

 


	3. War to War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it basks in the sunlight, it wonders helplessly if the situation would change. Far away from their home, sitting in a park alone, it thinks to itself ‘to what did I do that made fate this way?’ So it pondered and pondered more as it dreaded returning to their awful house they called a ‘home’.

Kiran sat atop a white horse adorned with armor and cloth that were etched with the symbols of the Order of Heroes. Their body shifted uncomfortably on the saddle as they looked at the forming armies. Hands pressed against the saddle as it looked onward towards the brewing war. A dragon flew above the plains and Kiran could not stop looking at the beautiful thing as it flew past their eyes. Ribbons decorated the black dragon. Even if it was the enemy’s dragon, it was beautiful. Their red eyes shimmered as they stared at that beautiful dragon that past their eyes. Breath caught in their mouth as they stared upward at the dragon that kept flying. Gliding in the sky beautifully free and the person upon their mount even more beautiful. It was the first time they had ever seen one, and for a moment Kiran didn’t even know what they were seeing was true or just a hallucination.

But it wouldn’t surprise them if it was a hallucination.

“What an ironic twist of fate,” mused a Hero. Kiran looked down as Niles approached the Summoner atop the hill. Still a rather sultry smile on his face, his smirk so carefree.

The Summoner smiled. “What makes you say that?”

Niles returned a smile to the Summoner. Though it seemed bitter, and almost careful. “The opposing army we’re facing is from my world.” His gaze turned to the Nohrian and Emblian soldiers across the field. In the distance they saw Xander preparing the troops, his sword raised high into the air as his voice rallied the hearts of his soldiers, something that Alfonse was prepared himself. Kiran remembered that Gunter hailed from Nohr and felt a pang of guilt.

_I didn’t know…_

“Is it?” Kiran looked at the soldiers who were shouting a foul battle cry.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Niles waved his hand back and forth. “There isn’t anyone behind the lines that I’m particularly attached to save for the Lord I serve.”

Kiran squinted at the opposing army. Guilt was dripping down their flesh, pain accumulating in their heart for taking Niles and Gunter so carelessly to this place forgetting that they came from such a world. “You know, Niles. You don’t need to join the battle. I’m not going to force you to fight against your kingdom.”

The Hero could only laugh. “And let our precious Summoner to the dogs?” He smirked at Kiran who sighed at him. “I’m surprised you trust me enough to even consider fighting with you.” The troops were rallying, shouting, the war drums were drumming in their ears. The dragon roared fiercely in the air.

Kiran could only look on into the pool of death that was beginning to churn. It was almost time. “I know you won’t desert us.”

Niles cocked his head. “You sound so sure of that.”

“Well, something tells me that you won’t.” Kiran began to move. They backed up their horse and turned towards where Anna waited for Kiran in the frontlines. “Oaths aside, you’re not the kind of person to do that.” They left it at that and so did Niles as Kiran rode away upon their white horse. Both knew not to question the unknown, not to dig further deeper into the abyssal hole that the Summoner opened up especially in a time of war.  

It did not look back to Niles, it did not wonder if Niles would actually desert the field to fight on Nohr’s side. Their mind was elsewhere, more preoccupied with the war that was brewing than anything else. It had only been a few weeks after they had been birthed into this world. Made to fight for Askr’s army and represent their religion and also their army. For morale, for their wit and brain. Still it didn’t help that Kiran was so averse to war and everything about it. Not exactly a pacifist but not so much a war hawk. It stood in a middle ground. The concept of war was something they fell in love with, reading how war was so bloody and how it affected the hypothetical mind and character. They could always sit down and read a good book about that. _Armor_ seemed to capture its heart in that respect.

Yet now they were in this position riding with Anna up to the middle field where Xander rode also to discuss and negotiate. Oh, Kiran hated it. Hated that blood would burst into the green field. The river would turn red. Everything made them sick. Everything about this made them rage against this and made them want to burn their flags in a giant heap to end this war.

The dragon swooped down landing next to Xander. It growled and hissed. The rider atop the black dragon petted her pet so carefully. Cooing and whispering to it. The thing terrified the Summoner. Niles had told them that was Camilla the princess of Nohr. He told it that she laughed and giggled when she beheaded other soldiers. Though she was pretty the Summoner wanted to get as far away from them as they could. Their body went still as they stared at Xander. Again they met. It wasn’t the first time they greeted each other on the battlefield though Kiran supposed this was going to be their first ‘official’ meeting.

“Hail, Summoner.” Xander raised his hand. Kiran did also. The wind blew, the cloth covering their mouth revealing just the slightest amount of their face but the blindfold was steady. “I did not imagine to see you on the battlefield.”

Kiran offered Xander a bitter smile. “If I’m going to lead them then I want to be with them.” Death frightened them. Even if it was something they yearned for and often times wished in their prayers, it was terrifying. The unknown after the end of one’s life. They hated to think about it. Hated to think that Xander was so willing to take his sword and plunge it into Kiran’s body for Veronica. Sick. It was all so sick.

“It will be the second time your men will face my blade,” Xander spoke. His eyes gazed towards the opposing side. The Summoner wondered if he saw Gunter and Niles among them. Did he burn knowing he had to face his own kind? Did the Askrian Heroes think so also? How horrible it must be to face one’s homeland and force to fight those from their homeland. “You know well that we are bound by Princess Veronica’s contract.”

Anna nodded her head. “Yes. We intent to break it so you can be set free from Emblian.”

Xander looked to Anna. “You will be disappointed to learn that I am bound to her in another way.” Anna furrowed her brows as Xander continued. “I could never oppose her. She reminds me so much of one of my siblings. Perhaps you can understand. Or not.”

Kiran looked bitterly at Xander. Would that mean he is forever going to be bound to Emblian? Forced to fight for the kingdom they oppose? Kiran looked downward and thought of the Nohrian soldiers on their side, how it pained it to put them in this position. “Then we have to fight you.”

“I’m afraid so.”

They both looked at each other. There was a certain pain in their faces. Untouchable. A pain that they both knew, perhaps. The meadow grew silent, only the wind howled for the coming dead. Where Kiran looked bitter at Xander’s decision, Xander only looked onward stone cold. There was nothing any of them could do the change the other. A fate set in stone, perhaps. Then the Summoner thought: should it summon one of his siblings, what should he do then? Once the chains of Veronica’s hold wears thin it would be possible to summon them from the maws of Breidablik. What would he do if Xander should face his siblings? What a horrible fate.

What a terrible fate.

It wondered if Xander knew what he was doing. But perhaps he had done this before. He was of course a man of war. They all were except Kiran who was cradled in the arms of peace and only saw war in books and the television and whatever its mother’s words were. They were innocent and the Summoner felt that everyone looked at them like a child who could not imagine what war was like until it was put in this very position. What a strange thing.

“Nothing will change your mind?” the Summoner looked at Xander hard. Searched in his eyes for anything that could change his heart or weaken the bond he created with Veronica. There was nothing, absolutely nothing.

Xander could already tell and he feigned a laugh. “I think we’ve wasted enough time to talk.” Xander drew back his horse and the dragon beside him growled. It jumped and flew off readying the troops for battle. Death brewed in this meadow as the peace shattered and war began to boom fiercely in the air. “It is about time you faced Camilla and I in combat.”

Kiran stared down. Death, blood, murder. That dread, that murder. The disgusting fate that they both created only to let a world free from someone’s grasp. Then only would this world not offer anything for Askr. It made Kiran want to throw up. As Xander rode away Anna and Kiran turned to return back to their own lines. This was only meant to be a skirmish, that’s what Sharena said. To test their metal against Nohr but it still made Kiran uneasy.

Everyone was happy to know that they had summoned some Nohrian soldiers. It helped to know their tactics. But still Kiran felt that it was horrible. All of this was horrible.

_I hate war._

_I hate all of it._

* * *

 

Alfonse entered the small church. It was empty. The setting sun lit the window panels, letting the light fall gently upon the room. There were no pews, having been hollowed out by their army for prayer. Etched upon the ground was gold tiles matching the ones that the Summoner’s robes usually donned. It was paint, something that would soon wear away after their army left. Fitting their religion. The prince walked down to the middle of the building, kneeling down to the floor and placing a kiss upon the ground, on one of the markings. He looked up, staring down the church. Further down the church at the end of the building was a book that held the legends of the Summoner upon a stone table only being able to touch by Adam, King Elli, Queen Sif, of the Summoner themselves. Adam had told Kiran to bring it to read verses to the army to boost their morale. So he saw the other facing away from the door looking down at the wooden podium and reading that legendary book. The prince stood and approached Kiran.

Its back was turned to Alfonse as it silently looked down at the large leather covered book. It was unfortunate that Alfonse wasn’t allowed to read that book or even allowed near it. So he stood still at the bottom of the stairs waiting to be noticed or waiting for the Summoner to turn around. Yet from this position as they looked up to the Summoner’s back and saw the light pooling out between them he had time to admire how holy this feeling was. Even if Kiran had said once again over and over that they were only human and should be considered human Alfonse could not help but look at Kiran as something else.

Divinity was the closest thing that Alfonse could call it. The way they stood there, blue feathers fell down its neck to their shoulders accompanied by the white hair that fell down their head. He wanted to call out, to say something, but all words escaped him as he ascended the holy stairs. Not once he had the guts to step upon the stairs to heaven, yet he did, so carefully, as if they were stained glass beneath his feet. Was it fear that compelled him? Or this holy figure before him?

He stopped just a step from Kiran as they turned towards him. Words caught in his mouth as he stared at the Summoner before him. So he saw it. The helmet that covered the eyes shielding the world from their markings. It was made of white metal. It curved around Kiran’s face. Horns shaping out from the mask, curling out and appearing so much like a horrible demon. It curled still spikes protruded out the mask like tusks and teeth ready to bite deep into another’s face should the Summoner actually want to. That blue feathered cloth covered the rest of their face, keeping those markings hidden carefully as if revealing their face was the greatest honor anyone could ask for. But there was no opening for its eyes to see from.

Words caught at his throat as he looked at Kiran who tipped their head to the side. Not one expression could be seen upon their face. As if they were born with no emotion, no personality but the gestures they made with their subtle tips of the head as they stepped away turning towards the prince. A hand was upon the sacred book, a gentle caress of the page.

As holy as they appeared moments ago, Alfonse could not help how terrifying they looked in this very moment. He did not know they had that mask so keen upon their face, it was surprising to see. It was the first time he had laid eyes upon it as he had forgotten prior that Anna had commissioned the helmet. It must have just been given to them for it was not worn upon their face in the skirmishes prior.

 “Oh. Alfonse.” Kiran spoke as they drew their hand back from the book. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Divine Summoner,” Alfonse went to his knees, looking at the ground. How dare he not remember to announce his presence especially in front of the most holy? “I should have told you I entered. Forgive me—”

But Kiran would not have it. “Alfonse,” they stopped him from going on his small speech of nothing. A tinge of annoyance was in their words. “You don’t need to do that. We’re alone.” Alfonse was still for a moment, still staring at the ground. Kiran was silent. Alfonse was left to wonder why Kiran was so kind to him when they were put on such a holy stage.

A moment he was still, as if this were a test against his will. But the Summoner was not like those priests and priestesses that would try to test his strength against words that went against what he was taught. So to appease Kiran, he stood finding that Kiran’s lax personality and casual aura made it hard to be so stiff with them around. Their almost lax way of doing things was often times off putting of Alfonse. Though the Summoner usually claimed that they were from a culture that didn’t care about nobility, that anyone who were among them were considered equal lest they were shown otherwise, Alfonse could not just throw away years of training of nobility. Kiran was, thankfully, mindful of that and would only chide the prince and princess if they were alone together claiming that they were _friends_.

Friends. That’s what it considered Sharena and Alfonse already. But Alfonse supposed that much was normal because they were the only nobles aside from the king and queen that would dare act so casual around it. He had heard from rumor that Kiran didn’t like the nobles finding that the nobles acted as if it were just a plaything, to be toyed around and gawked at. So perhaps Kiran called Alfonse and Sharena a friend because unlike the other nobles he viewed Kiran more ‘human’ for being their tactician and helping in the war effort; even if Alfonse didn’t consider them human and more divine than anything.

In that respect it led to strange happenings in the castle when it concerned how one should act around the Summoner. Because of the strange state where they were both helping in the war effort often times being in left in the frontlines, yet also being the Divine Summoner of legend people wouldn’t know how to treat Kiran. Not to mention it also involved the fact that the culture that the Summoner was supposedly brought up on led to tension between it and the castle. Sharena had told stories that Kiran would eat anything on their plate no matter what anyone gave them even if it was something they hated. This led to an agonizing explanation and almost argument about how Kiran didn’t need to eat something if they didn’t like it. Though Kiran complained that they could not refuse food offered to them no matter what. Sharena, in the end, decided to secretly tell the cooks that Kiran didn’t like a particular food and thus it was never on their plate.

But the extent of Kiran’s customs didn’t end there and often times Alfonse was made to wonder how strange the customs were in their world. At one point he had ventured to ask why they acted so particular in certain situations to which it replied: _Growing up I was taught that when someone offers you someplace to stay that anything they offer you, you have to accept it._ To which it led to an even deeper explanation on how cultures in its world differ greatly depending on where someone is raised and how the parents were raised also.

Which led to Alfonse believing that Kiran was an extremely cultured person.

“Forgive me, Divine Kiran.” Alfonse pressed his hand against his chest, and bowed his head respectfully. It was going to open its mouth to complain but opted to just let the matter go. Kiran couldn’t argue with that so it sighed as it turned back to study the book under their hand. Alfonse was still unable to walk closer. He could not walk closer to Kiran. Fear was struck deep into his heart.

“I still don’t understand,” Kiran began as it stared closely at the book. “The legend of the Summoner isn’t holy. It’s just a story about a hero saving the world and leaving.” They leaned their hands on the stone that held the book staring down at the sacred text. “So what if Breidablik chose me, I don’t like being seen as some divine person. I’m not a god, I’m just a human.” Their ramblings were odd.

Alfonse bit his cheek. It had been only a few weeks since Kiran had come to their world yet the overwhelming weight of being considered the Divine Summoner of legend was heavy on its shoulders. It took only a glance from the past to the present to see how those few weeks had affected it. From the common folk who wish Kiran’s blessings whenever they rode into the small towns, to the nobles who wished to court Kiran, to even the war table as they stared on trying to plan the next campaign against Emblian. Sometimes Kiran would spiral into panic attacks when at the war table, but most of all their eyes were still expressionless from even the first time he had saw them. Staring into nothing, as if thinking or wishing for death. Part of Alfonse wished he could relate to Kiran, but their circumstances were so much different than the prince’s. Taken from a world unlike their own and plunged into war.

Sometimes when he walked passed Kiran’s room or tent he heard its labored breaths. Every time he wanted to knock on its door to wrap the divine in his arms and whisper unto them that everything would be fine. But he was a coward. Just like he couldn’t say anything to Kiran now.

Or was he cowardly because he didn’t want to get close to Kiran? Sharena was always with it almost attached to them at the hip showing it around the castle or going around when it did patrols. Anna talked to it also usually eating with it when they were not in the company of the other Heroes. Yet Alfonse stood afar watching from the door and only talking to it when at the war table or when curious of Kiran’s strange customs. Sometimes he never even visited Kiran after they summoned heroes. Never once raised his voice against Adam for forcing Kiran to summon and being so ill.

Lucius was always there looking over Kiran like he was their guardian angel. He would hold Kiran’s hand when on their sickbed a place reserved for Alfonse yet taken by him. It was Lucius that Kiran kept close to always talking to him in their strange tongues and spiritual bodies. Their laughter and giggles like children.

“Alfonse,” Kiran spoke looking towards him. Alfonse was drawn out from his contemplation. He didn’t mean to space out like this, but maybe it was this holy place that let him confess these things to himself. His sin. “Can I tell you something? Something a little personal.”

He swallowed. His throat was dry. “Anything.” But he didn’t want to hear anything personal. To grow attached to the divine like he did with his one friend. What if they died? What if something horrible happened? What if they betrayed him?

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” They sounded so much like a child making a promise to another child.

Their innocence was often times overwhelming. “I promise.” He swore to that promise.

The Summoner was silent for a moment before it finally began to talk. “When I was younger,” Kiran looked at the stain glass window. “I was forced to worship a religion I didn’t believe in. Every week I was forced to go to church and every night I was forced to pray to God. If I didn’t pray then my family thought I was worshipping Satan, a devil.” Kiran laughed a little bit. “In the end they weren’t wrong. I became a pagan.” Alfonse blinked at Kiran as they kept staring at the stain glass window. Knowing that the Summoner was a pagan was so strange to Alfonse. Yet the place they stood, their armor reflecting so beautifully in the light. He couldn’t believe it. “I’m a Heathen. When I prayed at night I didn’t pray to any god, I prayed to my gods. I made an alter in secret. When my parents asked I said it was to show off my cool things.” The Summoner looked down to the book they were reading. “Its funny, many of the names here…  Breidablik… they’re names from my religion. It made me realize that I don’t know if I converted to Heathenry because I hated how I was forced to believe in something I didn’t care about or if I converted because I actually believed in it.” It looked down at the book and gave a small sigh.

The Summoner looked at Alfonse. Sorrow painted on every inch on each of their skin and this holy feeling disappeared. Alfonse saw not someone divine but someone human. Even if it was brief.

“Do you think it makes me a bad person that I think that this religion is the same as the one I was forced to believe in?”

That single phrase was a shock to Alfonse. To learn that the religion that the kingdom prayed under, that their leader of this religion thought that it was a religion was the same as the one forced upon it—but he could not be angered at Kiran. He could not yell at Kiran and say ‘how dare you think that way!’. It spoke only its mind, a mind that thought Alfonse was worthy of.

So Alfonse pressed his hands against Kiran’s. He felt their bruised and blistered fingers from training so long with Gunter from how to fight and how to ride a horse. “No. What you’re doing is admirable. I can hardly imagine how much this must weigh upon your shoulders to be the head of something you don’t believe in.” Alfonse looked down at their hands, the markings had become larger, thicker, more intricate. “But maybe, instead of thinking yourself as a figurehead of a religion you don’t believe in, think of yourself as a hero sent to mend the two kingdoms together.”

The Summoner nodded their head. The prince wondered what they were thinking and what had sent them to contemplate in this holy place that they didn’t even believe in. He wondered what the religion they were forced to was like. What type of dogma they had? What made their cogs work to relate their forced religion to the one that Alfonse was so deeply infatuated with? It was ironic. Sharena was always sweet on a hero and Alfonse was forever sweet to his religion. A smile appeared on Kiran’s lips as they looked at Alfonse. Their heart warmed so much at his words.

“I have one more request then.” Kiran drew away from to close the book and hold it in their other arm as they descended down the stairs. Their robes fluttered as they took each step and the gold upon the cloth shimmering in the sun.

_I can’t. I can’t get any closer._

“Yes, of course.” He began to descend the stairs also, following close to Kiran.

“I plan to go to the summoning grounds, I need you to cover me.” they looked back towards Alfonse as they stopped in the middle of the building.

“Adam wishes you to do another summon?” Alfonse gasped. “So soon, and during war!?” But Kiran shook their head. Realization dawned on him to what Kiran was implying. “You plan on going there by yourself? But what if you faint? What if Adam finds out?”

“Niles is coming with.” Their steps fell short as they stood in the middle of the empty room staring at the paint that was beginning to wear off, giving a small sigh as they stared down to the stone. “Adam doesn’t need to follow me around and give me permission to do summonings, you know.”

“But—But why?” Alfonse wanted to protest so deeply against Kiran going to the summoning grounds. “You know what it does to you.”

“I know, but I have a feeling about this.”

**I have a feeling about this.**

Alfonse remembered those words that Kiran yelled at him when sending their men to battle. That single word was going to get Kiran killed, was going to get Alfonse killed. “I don’t want to tell Adam about it. He’s like a tyrant.”

“Divine!” Alfonse was shocked at the words Kiran had uttered. In a holy place no less!

“It’s the truth.” Kiran looked up to the door, not once betraying a look to Alfonse. “Every time I go he makes me say certain things and makes me do prayers to keep to the legends.” How much did Adam remind them of Kiran’s religion? “So will you cover me?” Alfonse was silent. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I’d appreciate it a lot.” The Summoner looked at Alfonse waiting for his answer.

All Alfonse could do was sigh. “Fine, I will. **_However_** ,” he stuck his finger in the air as if to stop Kiran’s giddiness from taking over. “You must be back before the end of this campaign.” Alfonse stared into Kiran as they nodded their head.

“Don’t worry, I will.” And it gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Alfonse. It means a lot to me.” The helmet was soon placed upon their head and so Kiran turned to leave.

Alfonse was still as the door shut behind them. His body refused to move he only stared at the closed doors wondering what had made him say those words. All he could do was bring his hands up to his forehead and rub them as he stared into nothing. “What am I doing?” The words slipped through his mouth as if he was shocked he had allowed himself to be so easily curled around the divine’s finger.

He rested there for a little while longer. Letting the afternoon sun lay upon his body as if it would give him the answers that he needed for his actions. It was a moment alone, a moment of repose.

* * *

 

Alfonse shoved an Emblian soldier off his blade. The metal was slick with blood as was his armor and white clothes. The battlefield was a place of murder. The Heroes left behind by Kiran did their best to command the troops and follow as close they could to the tactics that the Summoner left behind yet the lines were failing against the assault of Nohrian and Emblian soldiers. Though the dead on each side was overwhelming, Askr didn’t have as many soldiers to throw away as any of the other kingdoms. Had Alfonse not been accustomed to the death of the battlefield he might have not been so close to the frontlines yet he chose to put himself in this danger anyway. Every noble asked that Alfonse not endanger himself like this, yet it was in this crisis that Alfonse did so. He could not leave his men to the wolves and let the enemy tear into them as Alfonse stood to watch. Instead he plunged the blade into another, letting it soak his sword deep.

He flung his blade to which made a horrible noise as it made contact with an Emblian soldier. Blood gushed out as it hit an artery. From the skies a dragon roared and swooped down. Fire blazed from its mouth as it spat flames upon the grass setting both Askrian and Nohrian soldiers ablaze. Alfonse could hardly understand why one would sacrifice their soldiers so needlessly, but then again, they must have so many to spare in that moment. It still made him sick, that burning flesh almost made him want to gag. From afar arrows rose to the sky in an attempt to shoot the dragon from the air yet none found its way onto the dragon’s scales. They must look so miserable on the ground, like roaches trying to scurry away from their death.

Dirt splayed everywhere as fire from a catapult hit the ground. The prince shielded his eyes before any flame of dirt could take his vision. A soldier attempted to take their chance and slay the prince, but he deflected the attack, splitting the other’s chest and letting them fall to the ground.

It was a shame that they had no fliers on their side being left to the faith of the archers as they still attempted to shoot the dragon from the sky. Fear was beginning to muddy Alfonse’s senses as they couldn’t even breach the castle walls to capture Xander. He hated to admit it in his head but this battle was near a lost cause. Word previously spread around quickly about the numbers of soldiers Nohr and Emblian had which planted the seed of hopelessness. He tried to grind that weed into the dirt with his foot, tried to rally the soldiers as much as he could, but he could see how weed had already spread. Should they lose more then they would need to retreat from the lines lest they all be murdered, or worst, captured. Lucius was doing his best to heal the ill, but it was hard given he was only one healer that would dare chance the frontlines. The war was overwhelming everyone, but they had to keep pushing.

_Where is our Summoner?_

Everyone needed Kiran to lead them now. They were the most holy and kept the morale of the soldiers so high. Just gracing its name meant it set the hearts of soldiers alight into a fiery blazing glory. Yet with them gone it almost seemed as if there was nothing for them to fight for besides the home of the Heroes that stood there and their own home of Askr.

Hope seemed to be lost.

For a moment Alfonse’s gaze turned to the sky once more. Again that dragon was there, that horrible beast growling as its master uttered tomes and let a pillar of fire blaze into the sky. But soon he squinted up at the sky, seeing another figure soon approach. It was another dragon, though it didn’t appear black but rather more brown. The wing span of this dragon was more wide, and the origin of the species seemed to be different than the one of Nohr. Atop their mount was another person, adorned in armor unlike that of Nohr. Camilla was preoccupied with her magi, laughing at the death on the battlefield and didn’t seem to notice the other dragon that glided so gracefully towards her. The brown beast smashed into the black dragon, its claws tearing into the black dragon’s neck as their rider clad in white brought her axe up to attack Camilla.

A gasp escaped him as he heard a war cry.

The prince turned towards the cry of war to see Kiran hide down the hill towards the other army in attempt to flank them. In their hand held a sword held high as they rode into battle. The mask upon their face glittered and the feathered cloth waved in the wind. For a moment it didn’t look devilish, but it looked angelic as if it were their saviors. Behind it sat Niles who drew back their bow to pick off any soldiers that would attempt to harm them. To their side was another rider garbed in blue, and behind him another archer drawing back his bow. He didn’t recognize them at first, but realization soon dawned on him as he recognized the blue cape. His eyes widened as Marth rode into battle, and behind him sat Takumi. Cheers rose up from the soldiers as reinforcements followed behind both of Askr and Altea. They were few, but enough to hold out just a little longer.

The swell of energy made him shake as adrenaline pushed into his mind. With sword in hand he raised it into the air to rally the troops, a bellowing shout left his lungs as he urged the men forward. “For Askr!” It rang through the battlefield. Echoing through the ranks and repeated over like a mantra. The soldiers began to regroup and press forward against the Emblian and Nohr soldiers as fear took them. The opposing enemy’s lines broke, and thus Askr was left to press forward, towards the castle.

* * *

 

Kiran pressed the sword against Xander’s neck. Blood dripped down from their blade, and so too did it drip from Xander’s. It was the first real fight that Kiran had been in. Though not against Xander himself, it had left that to Marth, but rather the fight previous when breaching the castle. Adrenaline had long taken over its body, their few kills made their heart leap from their chest. No emotion feigned across its face as it stared at the lifeless bodies that it had taken. There was fear, but as it stared at death, death did not stare back. Back home death was so normal that in the city it stayed in they even joked about such things. Yet it was hard to keep those memories of thoughts down. How it would fantasize about killing, how it wanted to plunge a knife into its parent’s heart so it would no longer suffer from their horrible abuse. Part of Kiran laughed at this blood, and the other shied away from the devil it was becoming.

Did they regret that it came to this? Yes. But it could not for a moment resign itself to its mind becoming overwhelmed with thoughts of the dead. Maybe it should have, maybe it was considered a bad person for not feeling anything for something they killed and immediately thought about those horrible thoughts as it took a life. The emotions wouldn’t burst forward, neither the anxiety or tears. Was it because it could not offer the slightest thing to the dead? Had it been screamed and beaten out of them in the prior years of their budding life? Or was it that death that filled the TV that the Summoner thought it was so normal.

_What did they call that?_

_Desensitizing?_

So the Summoner stared into Xander’s red eyes as he stared into their own deep blood. Of course, he could see it. See what Kiran was contemplating so deep in its mind. That death. That unholy murder. They both knew, they were similar in that sense as they both stared into each other. Though Kiran could not easily pick apart the prince, the prince could so easily dissect Kiran as if it were a pet project of his.

It would be so easy. To just put a little more pressure. To nick Xander’s throat and slash open that artery. But they stayed the blade as he laid still on the ground. “You’re free now,” it spoke finally as it brought the blade away from his neck, though temptation was to dig it deeper into him. To force open that flesh and break this dream apart. It wanted to get out of this hallucination, this intricate delusion and wake up. He didn’t utter a word as his eyes looked from the Summoner, to Marth, then to Niles further away. Hate blazed in his eyes as he landed upon the other Nohrian. Betrayal struck deep into the other Nohrian, and Niles almost looked petrified as if Xander was Medusa. “You don’t need to fight anymore.”

Xander was still for a moment before he brought himself up from the ground. He stood over Kiran. Armor was cracked and cloth torn to hell but he still looked able in battle. It was almost as if he could reach out his hand to wrap it around the Summoner’s neck and squeeze. For a moment Kiran felt frail in front of him. They were frail, as heavy built as they were the other man that it stood in front of felt as if only a breath would send Kiran toppling over. But he wouldn’t. He could not. Askr won this battle, and he had long admitted defeat. Marth stepped closer to Kiran, clutching his blade tighter in his hand so his knuckles turned white.

The Summoner wanted to shy away, to take a step or two away from Xander as his draconic blood burned a hole into their skin, but its feet were stationed to the place it stood. “If that is true, then I still wish to stay at Veronica’s side.” Everyone was silent, the Nohrian soldiers looked amongst each other. The Heroes in this place were uneasy. This fight was a hard one, harder than the ones they had previously faced in their skirmishes. He was the first to break his gaze from the Summoner. For a moment it wondered how innocent it looked in his eyes. A civilian, a child, plucked from the arms of their bloody city forced to fight in war. “Next time we meet on the battle field; I will defeat you.”

He took a step and near fell to the ground. Niles almost left his post to help the prince of Nohr, but he only shifted and wanted to look away having long lost that ability to be near Xander for his treason. Still he stared, yet tried desperately to avoid the other’s gaze ones more. In the distance it saw Xander’s retainers looking at Niles with a certain glimmer in their eyes. But they held their tongue.

_Defeat me? Does he mean kill me?_

It watched as Xander left the room, blood spilling from his arm. “Lucius…” Kiran looked towards their companion. “Could you heal Xander?”

“I do not need the help from people like you,” he spat turning round. “Do you wish to further grind salt into my wounds?” The notion seemed to take Kiran by surprise. It did not intend to hurt his pride, but it seemed it had already. Though, it supposed, such thought was normal. It forgot that such war culture was different than the ones at home. Where laws were even in place for wars between countries what was found here was unadulterated death. No laws, just murder, rape, and other horrible things.

The Summoner shook their head. “I only want to help you.”

“Even if I’m your enemy?” and to those words Kiran could only make a face of disbelief muddled with shock.

_He already thinks I’m his enemy._

_But I am… aren’t I? If Marth wasn’t here he would have gutted me already._

“Its your decision that you want to fight for Veronica,” Kiran stepped towards Xander. They were shaking. It was terrified of the other, terrified that he would raise that blade and stab Kiran in the chest. It didn’t want to die as much as it yearned for death and prayed to any god to die it didn’t want to die like that. If anything it wanted to die by its own hands. “At least let me help you so you don’t _bleed out_.” They touched Xander’s arm. It was a gentle touch and one of passion and care. There was a small squeeze and they stared blind up at him and he stared back. Though in this instance Kiran did not want to take Xander under the spell of that horrid object, but offer Xander only their kindness muddled in fear. Beneath their leather gloves hid those markings, however. They cackled and snickered and hissed. It would be the first that he would ever see of them since they had never been so close before. Had it not been covered, he would have seen everything. That disease, that disgusting film of filth.

In the distance, Kiran could hear Breidablik laugh.

Xander looked down at the hand as if it were poison. “It appears you are new to the laws of war. So I will offer you a word of advice, Summoner.” He looked at Kiran, the masked thing that squirmed beneath the armor in their holy delight. “Putting trust into your enemy will only make your life short.” He let those words sink into Kiran slowly if he were pouring water into a flower pot. Again, he turned, and walked away. His retainers followed behind their hands pressed against their wounds and ran to Xander like dogs to their master.

The divine stared at Xander as the Nohrian soldiers followed behind dropping their blades in front of it and bowing their head. Some muttered divine, others didn’t look at them. So all Kiran could do was stare down at the swords that were beginning to pile up. The clings and clangs, the disgruntled soldiers, and how much blood was beginning to pool in that small metal mountain.

 


	4. Silent Repose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With blind eyes it turns towards the sun. The truth yet surfaced.

The Summoner pressed their head against the flat of the blade. The silver metal burned at the touch of their markings. It was funny that silver would hurt them. It was like the legends say: **silver for monsters**. But even if the silver burned so lightly on their skin it made them feel at least a little human knowing that some bodily harm could still be done to them. It was not immortal, and for that the Summoner was glad that it could still die, even with the possession of this disease. Self-harm brought them no single joy but it was only the joy of being alive that came to it. Not that it was anything serious. Silver metal made their skin tinge in little pain, enough for it to fulfill the desires that it looked for. Slowly they drew the blade away from their face and sighed.

_How much more is this going to hurt?_

They could still see the red stained on their blade. Mind was brought back to it plunging into another person. How the enemy gasped and grasped at Kiran’s shoulder as if scared for the death coming to it. Yet Kiran didn’t say anything, not a word and feigned no emotion. It hated that. Hated how it couldn’t cry over the dead. That death that was already so much a part of their life, the death that it saw already when Anna killed the other person. It was so easy to get used to it, so easy to detach their mind from this unholy world and think that these people were only figments of their imagination. Of course it still wanted to puke, still became weak at the sight of blood, but it couldn’t shy away from it now. Too late. It was too later to turn back. Death was already on their hands, stained and soiled. Their innocence taken away from them.

Was this the truth its mother kept away from it?

It turned towards the mirror in their tent. A small thing but big enough to stare at themselves. So it walked closer to it holding the sword close to their side as they stared at their clothed body. It still was not used to the markings nor the hair or eyes. A finger twirled a stray curl then pressed against the markings on their cheek.

Curiously they opened their mouth to stare at their teeth. It was sharper than what they originally had. So they stuck out their tongue. They stared curiously at the black that was beginning to edge its way upon the pink flesh. So far it was a tiny black dot. A strange black dot. One so small Kiran could barely see it reflected on the mirror. The dot was only a dot, one that neither mixed the dance already on its body nor held any significant meaning.

_I wonder what these markings mean._

Kiran lifted its shirt and stared down at the markings that curled around its stomach. It appeared almost as if words were forming, yet none were recognizable in what they were looking at. They wondered what that meant. So it furrowed its eyes and stared down at the way the black formed into strange words and perhaps an eye here or there. It still was clear even over the stretch marks on their body. Even if after they lost weight, the markings seemed to have stayed consistent no matter how much their body changed. They wondered what was the meaning of these markings. It pressed its palm against their stomach and rubbed at it as if nursing their body. Perhaps Lucius would know what they meant. He seemed to know a lot about the spirit and soul, much to Kiran’s delight. Besides, it was around that time that Kiran would need to ask for his assistance. The markings were beginning to hurt again, and his medicine was the only thing that would cure them of that burn. Never would the Summoner tell another of the pain, instead they only lent their ear to Lucius to which he gleefully listened while Kiran did the same. They pressed their finger against a marking. Their eyes were beginning to burn so they shut them closed as they pressed their palm over their head.

_Maybe I’m just overthinking it._

It traced a curve that twirled around its stomach. Strange. It seemed as if that one wasn’t there a few days ago, but maybe it had not noticed it with all the war going on. So a strained face was made in turn, that of confusion but also acceptance. An impulsive thought reached into its mind. Whispering a horrible thing to them. It wiggled into their conscience. It whispered pretty thoughts in its head. The tendrils of death soon wrapped arms around Kiran, shielding it from the world outside.

**Touch it.**

_Touch what?_ So it pressed its fingers upon their stomach. _This?_

**The sword. Dig it into your stomach. Deeper into your organs.**

**Deeper.**

**Deeper.**

**Let it go.**

Kiran blinked as it looked down at its stomach. Had it spaced out? It was slow to come back to its senses as it stared down at the sword it was holding dangerously close to their stomach nearly ready to puncture its skin.

“Oh…” The Summoner blinked a few times and looked at the wound they had almost inflicted upon themselves. Dropping the silver sword abruptly Kiran looked down at their left hand. Markings squirmed looking as if they moved like bugs in water. But they were also still at the same time. Kiran turned to look at Breidablik that was neatly folded in cloth away from their sight.

_Did that make me do this?_

Sounds were becoming less and less noticeable as if someone placed a bag over their head. Breathe was shallow, and they kept staring down at their hands and further down to the sword that say there laughing at them. A frown was quick to cross their face as they were slowly pulled from this trance like state as the tent shifted allowing someone to enter. Were they so out of it that they had not noticed someone was calling to them? So Kiran turned trying to hide the paranoia that was beginning to inch their way into its frail mind. “Kiran? Kiran are you in here?”

Her eyes found Kiran and she smiled. Kiran’s hands were shaking but it did as well as it could possibly do to stop it from becoming noticeable. Their suffering was so plain to the eye, yet it dug it deeper into a hole. Further away from sight. What had brought this on? This infliction of pain? This fear of blood? She looked at Kiran, their body still.

“Kiran… Are you alright?” She approached the Summoner when they didn’t answer.

A shake of their head, “No. I’m fine. Just was thinking about some stuff.” It held both their hands to stop it from shaking. It had been awhile since it had thought to harm itself. But it was usually to help relieve stress or even if they wanted to feel pleasure. Never did Kiran self-harm out of whatever bloodlust that thing—that Breidablik—created.

Sharena knew what Kiran said was a lie but they didn’t say anything. Silence grew as they stood and Kiran tried to hide that spiritual wound on their body so apparent to the world yet so fruitlessly being hidden.

“Are you sure?” Sharena placed her hand delicately onto Kiran’s shoulder as it nodded its head.

“Yeah,” Kiran breathed for a moment. “What did you— _Why_ did you come here?” The Summoner sniffed a little. Teeth clattered for a moment in fear or in this bloodlust that Breidablik made for it.

“I came to look for you.” Sharena offered Kiran a smile. “Everyone’s been talking about you and the Heroes that you brought. You’re the talk of the encampment right now and Anna and my brother wish to speak with you.”

For a moment the Summoner couldn’t believe it. “Am I?”

Sharena nodded her head. “Yes. I went to find you so I could drag you out there and celebrate our victory.” She paused for a second, looking at Kiran. “If you’re up for it…”

The Summoner sighed as they pressed their fingers against their cheeks, eyes glancing to the markings that still sang and dance. “No, I can go.” They moved away from Sharena, walking towards the table that sat their helmet. From where it sat, it looked as if it was laughing at nothing, but the laughter was less painful than the one that Breidablik made. The open maws of their helmet sung for them to place it upon their face. Sung for the destruction that Breidablik sought after. Disgusting petty thing.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” It picked up the mask and placed it upon their face. They were good at fixing their emotions, letting their feelings drown and staring at the world with nothing. If they hadn’t then mother would scream at them, tell them they were too wrapped up in their emotions to continue their conversation. It hated that, hated how it was so emotionally stunted because of their past. But this mask helped them. Helped them make faces and portray emotions hidden from everyone so it wouldn’t have to ‘fix’ themselves. Still, their hands shook in anger as they tried to fix the cloth, trying to put those memories to the side in favor of something else. The princess saw this frustration and walked over to Kiran to fix the feathered cloth. The Summoner could only stand as Sharena gently pressed her hands against Kiran’s neck and fix its hair while staring at the Summoner for a little.

“You don’t have to go if you’re upset.” She let her hands linger on Kiran’s shoulders. How could she read Kiran so well? Was it that obvious? “I can tell them that you’re sleeping.” But Kiran shook their head denying themselves a moment of repose. It would face those it led to battle—face those whose friends have been lost to the slaughter.

“Really, I’m fine.” Sharena let her hands fall from Kiran as they looked at their hand covered in those pretty markings. It did not bother to put gloves on, letting only just a glimmer of those markings appear for the world to see. No one would care, they would be too drunk, too excited, to care about the markings that danced on Kiran’s skin. So it made way for the exit. A smile appeared upon their face as it stared at Sharena. An unsaid thank you between them.

When they exited the Summoner was met with the perfume of a party in the air. Songs were being sung by the bards as tales of Heroes from worlds recounted their memories upon this earthly plain. Their songs mostly focused upon the Heroes within the grounds. As the Summoner passed a group of soldiers it spotted a bashful Marth sitting upon a log playing off the tales of one such song while his soldiers he brought with thought he was being too humble while giving him drink. Still closer were other Heroes who talked amongst themselves sharing stories of their delightful home world. The words they spilled between each other reeked of culture, of history, one that Kiran wanted to indulge themselves in but thought it better seeing as how it would have as much time as they wanted with their dear Heroes. Some of the Heroes that spotted the Summoner merely waved their hands or gave a curt nod of their head as the Summoner slipped through the cracks of the party. As Kiran walked on, the soldiers drunk on victory or drunk on alcohol, raised themselves to the divine’s presence and shouted words of glory.

“Divine Summoner!” shouted some. “Holy Kiran!” shouted another. All were the same, they were invigorated by the presence of their tactician and thought nothing to humble themselves to a divine’s sight. But the Summoner liked that, liked how it was treated as some equal in this war and that they didn’t see Kiran as some untouchable god that didn’t know how to have fun. Some pressed around Kiran, laughing. One soldier put a cup in Kiran’s hand and cheered. Sharena laughed.

The Summoner looked down into the cup giving it a sniff. “What is this?”

A few soldiers laughed at the way Kiran treated this drink, but one replied. “It doesn’t matter! Its a drink! Come on!”

Kiran stared down still, and made a face beneath their feathered cloth before giving a sigh. So it pushed away their cloth, and took a large gulp down of whatever it was. A noise escaped them as they stuck out their tongue and closed their eyes shaking their head. “Eww,” it squealed. “Its so gross!” They brought up their hand to rub their tongue on their flesh finding the salty taste of skin was better than whatever they put in their mouth. Some soldiers laughed.

“Oh, come on! It isn’t that bad!” a soldier refuted. Their babble caught the attention of some of the soldiers around the bard. Kiran looked up to stare at Marth who smiled brightly at Kiran and laughed at their disgust for the alcohol it had drank. It looked away towards the soldiers, forgetting all about the anxiety that they had once felt back in their tent.

“It tastes like piss,” it spoke. The soldiers began laughing even more. Their howls reaching to the sky that had long turned red and purple.

“I didn’t know our Most Divine had a mouth of a sailor!” The soldiers were in delight over Kiran’s carefree attitude, Sharena laughed with them also as Kiran tried desperately to get that lingering taste out their mouth.

The Summoner gave the cup back to the soldier. “Yeah, and there’s more of it,” their tongue peaked out. Not that it mattered anyway seeing as how their face was covered with cloth. “God, that tastes awful! What the hell did you give me!?”

Another soldier feigned offence, “The best stuff Nohr has to offer!” She pressed her hand against her chest, “Only the best beer in all the kingdom!”

Sharena narrowed her eyes playfully. “Oh, so you **smuggled** some stuff in our encampment I see.” The soldier looked alarmed for a moment at the princess, to which she waved her hand playfully. “You know I’m only kidding! But keep it between us, you know how my brother gets.” She rolled her eyes to which the soldier breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Say, Kiran. What types of drinks do you have back home?”

“All kinds of stuff—” it began but as the soldiers heard a glimmer of Kiran’s homeworld it was soon lost to excitement.

More soldiers gathered round, eyes glimmering to learn more of Kiran’s world. “Yeah, what’s your home like?” “Is it cold?” “Is it warm?” “Does the food taste good?”

Laughter began to bubble from the Summoner. “Oh my god, calm down!” It waved its hand around as it was nearly crushed by all the people around them wanting to learn more of their home. “I’ll tell you guys, I’ll tell! Just give me some better beer to drink.” So the soldiers backed away from Kiran as Sharena made some gestures with her hands.

“Don’t worry, everyone.” She smiled at all the soldiers. “I need to steal away Divine Kiran for a moment but after that you can have them.” Some soldiers groaned as they desperately wanted to hear more of the Summoner’s homeland, but Kiran was thankful that Sharena gave it the chance to breath for a moment before joining all the drunks in their singing and drinking. So the princess walked with Kiran towards another tent. It was familiar, one that Kiran had been in before. All things of war happened in this very place. Thus such a place was somewhat hated by the divine.

They entered. Alfonse sitting on a chair rather lazily while Anna was sipping her own drinks. The table with all the maps and pieces were everywhere having no reason to be orderly. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits in the hazy air that was casted about and it let the Summoner have sense of ease as they entered. Alfonse looked up as it entered and he almost stood up before Sharena rolled her eyes making a gesture for him to sit back down. He stood anyway. “You really don’t have to stand up every time Kiran enters the room.”

“Its custom!” he shouted back almost embarrassed by how hastily he bowed to Kiran.

Sharena could only sigh and shake her head while looking at Kiran. She made her way to sit down at the table putting her feet up on it. Her brother gave her a dirty look to which she ignored it entirely. Anna made no indication that she was bothered by such action. So Kiran took their own seat at the table placing their arms upon it and laying their chin on their arms. “So, what did you call me here for?” Eyes flicked to Alfonse who stared at Kiran.

“ **First** ,” Anna began putting down her cup. “I want to thank all of you for your effort in the campaign. You all did very well out there, especially you Kiran.” The Summoner smiled, though somewhat lazily. “However, next time you go to the summoning grounds, please let us know. Who knows what could have happened to you out there.”

The Summoner sighed. “I had protection. Niles was with me.”

Anna shook her head sticking out her finger. “There are other threats, you know. Not just from the Emblian Empire, but also thieves and monsters.” Kiran blinked a few times as it pondered that.

_I hadn’t thought about that._

“I… I didn’t know that you had monsters.” It straightened up and looked down at the table pondering those words. It tried to envision the beasts that could existed. If dragons could live here, no doubt there were other horrible things. Hydras, griffons, chimeras, perhaps even sirens. “They don’t exist in my world.” This world was so different from their own. To think that they could have been attacked by such beasts. Their heart sunk into their stomach and they looked at their hands trying to process those words.

Anna nodded her head. “Nohr is especially notorious for them.” She took a sip from her cup, “But you still helped turn the tide of the war. Without your help, I think we would have lost.” Anna smiled at Kiran who returned it, even if that smile couldn’t be seen. “Though it still concerns me that Xander would chose to fight for Veronica.”

Alfonse nodded his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, laying back against the chair. “That concerns me also. But Heroes do join us by their own free will.” He looked towards the Summoner. “There is something about you that seems to win over these Heroes quickly, Divine Summoner. Such trait is rare to come by.” Kiran blinked at Alfonse. But was it really winning them over and not the curse of Breidablik? Could Kiran really say it was because of their personality and their innocence that let Heroes from other realms trust them so easily? That thought still made them worry, still made them fret with anxiety. It was something they thought about often and let it plague their very mind almost every second of the day if they weren’t so preoccupied with other thoughts.

“I think it’s something else,” the Summoner murmured looking at their left hand.

“Nonsense,” Sharena waved her hand back and forth. “They’re our friends, its why they stay with us. Surely otherwise they would have left long ago.” The princess smiled at nothing in particular, “I only wish I could make as many friends as you did, Kiran.” A sigh left her lips as she dreamed of befriending many of the Heroes that the Summoner had brought here.

Alfonse seemed to grow angered by her words. Something about the mood changed, and it was like a whip snapped in the air. The Summoner’s hair bristled and the peaceful aura that Alfonse once had cracked and became bitter. “How many times must I tell you, Sharena? Heroes are not our friends. They’re only our allies. It would be appropriate not to get close to them.” He turned to look at Kiran, who stared at him almost confused. “You should abide by my advice also, Divine Summoner.”

Kiran wanted to laugh in Alfonse’s face. These Heroes were the only people that made Kiran compelled not to sulk off into the abyss and stay locked in their room. They treated Kiran not as some tool to use but as a human being. In their eyes they saw the Summoner as someone normal with quirks as anyone else in this damned world. Those Heroes took Kiran under their wing and showed them things that it never thought possible or never thought it could learn.

But it was Sharena that bit him back. She took her legs off the table and stared deep into Alfonse’s eyes “Don’t be so prickly, you only think like that because you were once the same. You had been so close with a Hero only for him to leave to go back home.” Alfonse drew back with a pained expression on his face as Kiran stared wide eyed at the siblings who bit at each other’s tongues like children. Sharena’s wound was deeper than Alfonse and the Summoner didn’t know how to react in the situation given.

“How dare you…!” Alfonse could barely mutter. Kiran could hear how the prince had been knocked down a few pegs by his sister.

Sharena reveled in it. “I’m right, aren’t I?” She pressed the salt into his wounds. Deeper and deeper. Further into them deeper. Alfonse pressed his fingers into his palms staring at his sister. It almost looked as if he was going to kill her.

“Enough! Both of you!” Anna slammed her fist onto the table knocking the two out of their blood lust. “I will not have you two fighting over something that doesn’t matter. Tonight we’re **_celebrating_** not arguing over little things.” Both Alfonse and Sharena looked down ashamed of their actions, though none uttered a word of apology. “Tomorrow we’ll begin to prepare for our return for Askr. So you all should begin to say your farewells and celebrate while we all still can.” They all sat there for a moment as Anna drank the last of whatever was in their cup. With the threat of Emblian still pressing its teeth against their necks, it seemed as if this was the only time they were going to celebrate. At least for a while.

Sharena stood silently before bidding everyone a sweet night and left. Though as she left a dirty expression was marked upon her face as she stared at Alfonse. As she reached the tent’s entrance she stuck out her tongue and exited before Alfonse could make a dirty face of his own (though something about him seemed as if he was too refined to stoop to such expressions). Alfonse was soon to exit later as if waiting for his sister to move far enough away from the tent for him to make his leave, thus left Kiran and Anna alone as they both mused to themselves.

They stared blankly at the table as thoughts swarmed in their head. But finally they rose from their seat and waved a small goodbye at Anna then headed towards the exit. A cool breeze was felt upon their skin, kissing the small flesh they let free. Aromas that the Summoner had never smelled before filled their nose, one mixed with death, alcohol, sex, and happiness. The nightly smell was so different from their home.

Ah.

Home.

What a strange feeling.

For so long they wanted to get away from their home, to leave this bodily world to escaped. Dreams filled their mind every day fantasizing about a world they longed for where people didn’t hate it. Yet after coming here it realized that it wasn’t the home that it wished to escape, it was the house, the ties that bound it to this existence. Should it had been birthed as something else, a tiger, a bird, perhaps even a fish, it would have lived happier. The home that Kiran loved was only the city and world which it had the pleasure of living in, not so much the people blood attached to it.

Yet even if it longed to return to the world that it had the pleasure of knowing it still loved this place. Fear did wrap around its heart from the unknown of the markings crawling up its skin as always. But in some way this was the fantasy that it envisioned—where people loved it for being itself, not for the false self that it created to please everyone. Within this moment of contemplation, it turned not towards the party but towards elsewhere, towards a more secluded please to mull over the situation.

It was this campaign that was its first full war. It did not consider the world from which it was born into its first battle but this where it had slain the living. So it twisted between the tents shying away from lovers who were so wrapped up in their lust or love to another twist or curve. Like a basket it weaved in and out everywhere to only stop to look up to a familiar face.

Upon a hill stood Alfonse. The soft breezed lightly touched his body making his hair shimmer so beautifully within the wind. A hand rested upon his sword, and his blue eyes glimmered as he looked upon the tiny encampment lit only by lanterns or fire pits. Kiran could only stare up at the young prince as he stood there watching his men so much like a hawk. Its breath held within its lungs as if exhaling would break what it saw before them. Almost did this appear like a painting and slowly it began to think how beautiful it would look framed. Kiran wish it could ‘see’ it proper.

It stood there staring until finally it got the courage to walk up that hill that felt so much like a mountain. Step by step it got closer to Alfonse, only for the prince to be drawn away from the tents to stare at Kiran who slowly approached. Yet his reaction to it was not to cast his gaze afar and bow his head, but of defense and embarrassment. “Divine Summoner…” he paused as he bit his lip. “If it’s about what Sharena said please save me the mockery.”

“No, no.” Kiran put up their hands. “I didn’t want to talk to you about that. That’s not really my business.”

Alfonse raised his brow as if unsure what Kiran said was true. “Then why have you decided to speak to me?” He turned towards it as it stepped closer to Alfonse. “The soldiers are celebrating you. You should go to them.” He motioned towards the encampment that lit up underneath the stars. But Kiran shook their head.

“I wanted to get some time away to think. I saw you up here and thought I could join you.” They said it rather childishly. Those words slipping from their mouth so innocently yet still faltered on their tongue. It looked away towards the field of light upon the ground, then gaze turned upward towards the sky which glimmered in the night. It never ceased to amaze Kiran how wonderful those stars appeared. So different from starless sky it looked at every day. A beautiful thing.

Alfonse huffed a laugh from his mouth shaking his head with his eyes closed. “Divine, you are too kind.” A soft smile graced his features as he looked at Kiran. “You offer me your presence when I’m hardly worth the time.”

“Oh, please.” The Summoner snorted. “If you told me that if I was back home I’d seriously think you were joking.” Alfonse looked at Kiran for a moment, staring at the way it looked up into that starry sky with its face hidden by a mask. Did it look delicate? Or was it more divine? Perhaps satanic?

His gaze turned elsewhere, towards nothing, towards the isolation he desperately wanted to create between Kiran and himself. “Do you miss it? Your home?”

A wistful sigh left their mouth, “I do.”

“Would you ever try to return to your home should the possibility arise?”

For a moment it tried to envision the stars back home. How bare they appeared when it wasn’t filled with light from the world below. It thought about how the earth looked up in space, how its city appeared on the water of the lake it was upon. It tried to envision, one last time, how the bridges arched over the rivers, how the trains and buses sounded like as they moved. “Maybe. The only people I miss back home are my friends, there isn’t really much there for me. I told you my answer before, remember?” Alfonse tilted his head to the side and Kiran shook their head. “The first day we met.”

Alfonse smirked as if he won a game. “No, I asked you if you missed your world, not if you wanted to return.” Kiran grew silent. “So, would you want to return?”

“I don’t know.” They rubbed their arm, “I want to see my friends again. But the situation is kind of complicated.” They thought about the house they grew up in. The horrible trauma that life brought them. “I’d like to see my city again though.” Kiran smiled to themselves, “I think that’s the biggest thing I miss about that place.” Even if that wretched place brought back so many horrible memories, it still wanted to see it one last time.

Silence bore down upon the two that stood upon that hill as Kiran looked down from the sky to the soldiers who were singing. What a horrible feeling, this homesickness. Yet, even if there was a chance it could return, nothing would be the same any longer. Its appearance was so different, its personality so warped. It wondered, it wondered if anyone missed it. Fear inched through to its heart.

“Alfonse?”

“Yes?” he looked towards Kiran.

“If I left, would you still remember me?”

Alfonse looked off for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I would. Why do you ask?”

It was silent for a moment as it stared back into the stars. That fear was still present, that anxiety began to trickle down its spine. “I was just wondering.” It began to step away from the prince and go back towards the encampment before it stopped for a moment, “You know. You should come with me. I’m going to be telling the soldiers about my world.”

The wind blew, but somehow Kiran knew what Alfonse was going to say. “I’m afraid not this time, Divine. There are… some things I wish to think about tonight.” The Summoner saw that uneasy feeling in his eyes, the way he stared off for a moment. So empty and desolate, a look that Kiran always had. Yes, it knew this well. So well, in fact, that the both of them acknowledged it as so.

“Goodnight then.”

“Fare thee well.”

 


	5. Kiran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain falls upon its face. To the bone it becomes soaked. Shoes long discarded to walk on the rough cement. Water drips from its face as it mixes with the salty tears from its eyes. It no longer longs for that house, but it longs for the meadows of a world it will never know.

The war waged on. Every passing week was another battle. From one campaign led to another, and from one skirmish led to larger battles. Morale swooped up to the skies, and sometimes faltered down to the pits of hell. From victory there laid defeat. Men dying in one another’s arms. Blood soaked blades. Armor shattered against axes. Pikes impaled into each other. Shields knocked senses of soldiers out. Sometimes the rivers turned red, and sometimes the meadows became ash. Villages offered their prayers from the gods that reigned in their world and sometimes asked for the favor of Kiran.

So all it could do was give them that as it sat upon its white horse with bloody sword.

**Behold a pale horse.**

It would strike that silver sword into soldiers. Over and over again. Blood and more blood. Sometimes it would faint at the sight of it, other times it could stare at the guts and gore and be fine with it. Over and over again, it would issue orders. Commands would ring out from their lungs and sometimes it would only watch from afar as the soldiers ran across the fields to kill. Sometimes soldiers would cling to Kiran, holding onto it as their life left them, and Kiran wanted to scream, to run away, to go back to the horrible world they used to be a part of.

It was so scary to do this. Always so scary.

**Its rider was named death.**

Again, and again. The battles melded together. Kira could not pull apart one day from the other. Worlds mixed together and it could only pull one apart from the other through its history and culture. All the battles felt the same, and each battle brought it closer to its own slow destruction. Over and over again, Adam stood beside it, pointing at what to do, and so it followed it wordlessly. Their smile that used to be so apparent upon its face slowly faded away as the days passed. The joy that Sharena brought it faded also and every conversation became the same.

It raised its hands to the sky and looked at the stain glass windows. There was no passion as there was no happiness, it was all mechanical. It felt like a machine and this machine did nothing to stop the vines of fate.

Was this the reality?

Was this really the reality it was originally intended for?

Empty prayers echoed the room. The priests and priestesses murmured and prayed with it. The markings burned. Kiran wanted to run away to get away from this place. Again and again, this never ending religion. This war was a crusade. Their eyes still blind

Was it good?

Was it bad?

Breidablik spoke to it in these times. In those nights where it stared at the ceiling wondering what went wrong it spoke. Whispered death upon its ear. Whispered horrible things. Staring, all it could do was stare. Deeper, deeper. It fell deeper into hell.

It whispered things.

The prayers rung from its mouth. The stone below its feet shimmer. Every night it would think about sitting underneath those stones of the summoning grounds. Fantasize about some Hero crawling in its bed so it could just hold it. But it stayed alone. Alone in this empty room, holding their necklace, the only reminder of home. Alone. Alone. It sobbed into those sheets. Hid behind its mask.

Sometimes it would look at its phone, the thing that died ages ago, and wonder: how could this be? Sometimes it would look at the identity cards within its wallet, stare at how unrecognizable it is. When it looked down at the name stamped into those plastic cards it almost looked as if their name had completely disappeared. It was almost strange how the name Kiran was beginning to etch itself upon Kiran’s body as if it were the birth name given.

_Who am I? Who am I?_

The sickness would crawl all over. Their body weak until it slept for years. Then it would go again, that same old thing. A summon, a prayer, and their ultimate demise as it laid in bed staring at the empty chair that would be occupied with someone.

A hand curled around a flower within the garden picking the lavender from its stem and smelling it. It rubbed the purple petals between their palms letting the oils soak into their hands.  

“Are you happy with your religion?” Kiran let the petals fall from their palms looking to Lucius who sat upon a stone bench reading.

_What am I looking for?_

He looked up at the other. “Yes, my belief gives me the strength to continue forging the path I walk.”

“Does it?” Kiran wanted to somehow believe it did yet there was a part of it that didn’t.

“I believe it does,” he bowed his head. “Even if it does not, it helps me continue to pursue my dreams and passions.”

_Who would I be if I never was forced into my religion? Had I accepted it, would I be content like him? Would I be here?_

“Are you happy with yours?” Lucius closed the book and set it on his lap to stare at Kiran.

“I don’t know.” They took another flower and walked towards Lucius. Aches and pains. The burning of flesh. It hurt. “Maybe.” It took both of Lucius’s hands and began to rub them together with the lavender. “I can’t say for certain if it makes me happy or not. When I think about it, I guess it does. But it still doesn’t feel complete. Like I’m missing something and I don’t know what.” Kiran let Lucius’s hands go so he could smell his hands. It felt it already had this discussion with Alfonse but Lucius didn’t ask the questions that matter, didn’t care in the way Alfonse did. “But I can’t go and become atheist—to not believe in god—otherwise I’d be empty.” Lucius stared at Kiran as it sat down next to the monk. “More empty than I already am.”

In this world of blood Kiran could only wonder what possessed fate to lead them here. “Then what do you think you are missing?” Lucius let the petals fall onto his lap.

“I don’t know.” There were many things that it felt it was missing, but could never really understand what it was.

Lucius took Kiran’s hand and smiled at them. “Perhaps when you find it you’ll know.”

_But will I ever get the chance to find it?_

So now when the soldiers wished for blessings Kiran was not as lost as it once was. A passionless voice yet still was able to ring with something. When the divine weapon lit their body on fire it could only scream murder into the dirt and seethe as pain sprang upon it while others stared helpless. Sometimes it wondered if this was divine punishment from their gods and goddesses, other times it wondered if this was just the fate it was born to. So when those thoughts drove into its mind, when those hallucinations and delusions destroyed it, all it could do was lay alone in the grand churches beneath the sun and wonder if this was what previous Summoners of legends had to go through. Those days eventually waned into different ones. Where it would not cry into its hands as it hid in the darkness of the kingdom but train with Heroes or alone.

All it would do was train those rare days when the feeling of there being nothing encasing its shell became apparent. So the Summoner would swing its sword at nothing. Repetitive motions that had long lost count to a mind that didn’t care to keep count. It was only when the night had long taken over, and most soldiers would not venture to train at such hours finding their bed or a meal much more welcoming. The night watch would peer at Kiran sometimes. Staring at the strange way its arm was bandaged up to keep eyes from looking at its markings. Those soldiers would lean over the balcony railing overlooking the training area, silently staring at the Summoner. Sometimes one would even approach Kiran and offer word of advice or bid it to go to bed. It would either take that advice and keep it or throw it to the unknown to let it rot. During these times it wanted to be left alone.

At some point the sword fell from their hand after a swing. It skidded against the dirt ground and landed a foot or two away from the Summoner. Kiran flinched when it skidded away as if shocked that its grip had faltered. Soon its gaze turned downward towards the hand that held the sword, blisters and sores were appearing on the once delicate palm. What had been once cherished for art now became a tool of destruction. It tore their blindfold away staring down at their own flesh. It pressed its fingers onto the sores, squinting down at it.

The markings laughed.

The world laughed.

Fate laughed.

It could not see blood, but felt it clear. It looked at the scars on its hands. Many of which it gained from rough housing, from protection. New and old. Everywhere.

It saw the blood.

**BLOOD.**

That voice echoed, that divine weapon.

**DO IT.**

So it sighed as it fumbled with putting the blindfold back on. It walked over again to pick up the sword, only for it to slip so easily from its fingers. It made a grunt, some kind of growl mixed with frustration and anger as its hands ceased up. That pain dripped into its body, slowly, but surely ever deeper. It wanted to escape this casing of skin, jump from its body, remove itself or mutilate those disgusting organs that signified its whatever-hood. Part of it wanted to curl up on the ground and sleep there, but with an image to retain it didn’t. Instead it opted to sit on the dirt with a sigh, tugging off the clothed mask and rubbing its forehead while staring down at its feet and looking at its hands.

Hardly caring for the world around it, it sat staring. Sounds washed out from it and again the nothingness always in its eyes stared.

_What is my name again?_

_My true name?_

_It was…_

But that name didn’t matter anyway. Maybe it did. Maybe that was the thing Lucius was talking about. “Kiran?” The Summoner was still for a moment, straightening its back and letting its hand fall to its lap. Was that its name now? Kiran?

“Huh?” it turned towards the voice to see Sharena standing near holding a lantern. The Divine blinked, staring at the princess as if it had never seen them before. “Oh its…” it tried to turn away as if ashamed, “...you.” Their mind was wired to something else, it took a moment for it to come back together. The wheels turned slowly, a mind a blank slate.

_Just when I thought I could be alone._

“What are you doing here?” Their tongue felt weird. A useless hunk of flesh in between teeth. It was if it forgot how to use it.

“A concerned soldier asked me to check on you,” Sharena approached Kiran and stared down at them. Kiran didn’t reply, but Sharena went on, “Sakura told me that you’ve been out here for hours and she was too scared to stop you. So she sent me.” She squatted down to look at the Summoner better as it remained silent. Her eyes glanced to its hand as Kiran avoided her gaze. Empty eyes stared at nothing.

It flexed its fingers and rubbed and squished its arm. “I can’t feel my arms anymore.” A soft laugh came from Sharena as she stared at Kiran. No joy came from the Summoner. Eventually she set the lantern down, taking something from her pocket and handing it to Kiran. It looked at it for a moment, something wrapped in cloth. “What’s that?”

“Dinner,” she replied. It eventually dawned on Kiran that it hadn’t eaten anything all day. But it didn’t feel hungry at all. Possibly that depression that ate at it. Not that it wasn’t a strange occurrence, besides, it was used to it. “I didn’t see you at the table so I prepared you some food.”  

Kiran made a face as it took the item from Sharena’s hands. It slowly unwrapped it, staring down at the meager meal. Meat coupled with some cheese and bread. So with a shaky hand it began to eat. “Was King Elli upset that I wasn’t there?”

“He was a bit pissed.”

Kiran was silent for a moment as it chewed its food. “I’m sorry.”

The princess didn’t answer, but gave a tiny shrug as she watched Kiran silently place food in its mouth. The way it methodically broke the bread and tore the scraps of meat almost was as if it had done this a thousand times before. Its fingers shook, and sometimes she wondered if it could still raise its arm as it paused once or twice staring at its fingers urging to move. Sometimes it would drop their food on their body or it would fall back down on the cloth. Sharena sighed as she grabbed a piece of cheese and held it up to Kiran’s mouth. “You should take better care of yourself. You know if you keep doing this you’ll turn everyone into a worried mess.” Kiran rolled their eyes as it chewed the cheese that Sharena gave it.

“I can’t help it. It’s the only thing that can distract me from....” Kiran paused staring at its hands.

_Pain._

It was the only thing that made them feel real, the only thing that made them sure that they truly existed presently in this world and was not dreaming. It was not a phantom pain; it was a true pain.

“Your markings?” Kiran nodded their head as Sharena knelt down with Kiran. She reached for their arm with the markings and began to peel away more of the bandages from its skin. Beneath her fingers she felt their callousing hands and blistering palms. Kiran was silent as it too stared at the markings. It hadn’t shown much of its skin since it had opted to hide it beneath layers of cloth or armor. Since then, it had resigned itself to the fate of forever hiding away the markings. Those ugly things. But as it sat here and felt the cool breeze of the wind on its skin it remembered how much it missed that. To stand naked in its room and lay upon its bed covered in flowers and herbs. To join with nature and adorn itself in armor along with flowers. Ah, it missed that feeling, missed to sit in silence and stare at paintings in museums and not be bothered with the gossip of servants or the murmurs and cackles of rumors.

“Is it bad?”

Sharena glanced at Kiran. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are they ugly?”

_Are they disgusting? Are you repulsed? Do I look like a monster?_

“Not at all,” Sharena smiled.

_No, it isn’t me. That isn’t me._

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

The princess shook his head as he stared at their other markings upon their face. “Why would I? I think they look beautiful.” Her eyes stared at the way they moved up and down its arm. So it wondered if she knew what it meant, or knew what horrible things that it entailed. How painful it felt. How disgusting it made them feel. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Me either.” Tales of books would describe such markings. Even then it would draw these things upon itself for fun. Yet now, with it upon their skin, it wanted it gone. Wanted it out. “I wish the pain would go away.” Sharena let go of Kiran’s arms as it continued to eat and she watched. “Every time I do a summon the pain spreads. Lucius has been giving me some medicine to help numb the pain but it still feels like bugs are crawling up my arms.” It folded up the cloth when it finished, wrapping it into weird shapes and twisting it.

“You could ask Adam,” she replied. Though Kiran’s face said it all when that name was uttered. “Oh, come on! I know you don’t like the guy but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“That’s even if I get the chance. He’s always so busy doing those… religious things.” It made a gesture with its hands as if it would say the point. “Or telling me how to do those religious things. I really hate having to do it all the time. Its exhausting.” It rubbed at its face as if trying to wake itself up from the sleep that so wanted to tug at it. “I hate it.” Sharena could only shrug and Kiran shook their head staring down at the cloth they kept trying to twist feeling bad. “…Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Laying that on you.” Kiran blinked slowly turning their head as if ashamed of their words. “It’s your religion and I’m being rude.”

Sharena rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. We’re friends.” She placed her hand on Kiran’s and stared at it. “I rather you be honest with me than keep it in.” She looked over at the sword that Kiran discarded as if to make a point.

It was silent, “Sorry. I’m so used to not being able to say anything about religion.” With its family standing over it, cackling and laughing at it. Peering into its soul. How it would reject the body of God and his blood. Turn to those pagan beliefs and feast in their name. Utter the words of Odin when praying to Jesus.

“We’re all here to support you,” she rubbed her thumb over Kiran’s knuckles. “You don’t have to be alone.”

_But I do. I have to. No one else has to burden themselves like me. It tells me I have to._

Kiran nodded its head thinking about that. It didn’t utter a word of thanks, instead stared out into the night. Eventually eyes laid upon the sword again. Lips formed words before it could even realize what it spoke. “Let’s spar.”

Sharena was taken aback. “Now?”

“No, but someday we should.” It drew its hands away from Sharena to grab the sword that sat so close to it. In one hand it held the blade upon its palm, and the other held the hilt. It did a mock swing. “I’ve gotten better, Marth has been showing me how to fight with a sword. It’d be… nice to show you what I’ve learned.” Kiran smiled at Sharena, “I’ve gotten a lot better since we’ve met.”

“Hm, I guess it would be nice.” She looked towards the sword. “I’d love to see what type of style you have in battle.” She motioned to the sword in its hand. The silver metal burned in the night. “I’d feel bad though. Since you can’t see.” She motioned towards Kiran.

Kiran looked elsewhere, “I can see still. But differently.” They placed a hand over one of their eyes. “It’s strange. I cannot see but I can still. It’s almost as if something is guiding me to imagine what I see in my head.” Kiran’s looked downward towards their lap. “Marth told me that my fighting style gives him a berserker feel.”

“All out?” Sharena clicked her tongue. “That’s pretty dangerous.”

“It’s more… interesting.” Right. When it fought. All sense of self wore away, that which made it human shed into something more horrible. A monster upon the battlefield. It was the only time it could allow its true self to bubble up and spill over the façade it kept. It could not count how it blacked out when sparring with Marth. The battle felt real. “More the reason for me to stay behind the lines.”

“But you never do…”

Kiran was silent. It bit its lip, tried not to betray what it wanted inside.

_Do you know? How much I want it to stop?_

“I want to be there with the soldiers,” its eyes looked towards the sky. “If I’m there with them then they can trust me more. Plus, they’ll see me as a human than something that simply is able to barely manifest in the world.”

Sharena was silent for a moment as she thought about Kiran’s words. “You don’t want to be a ghost?”

“I… I guess so.” Kiran looked downward. Merely existing. To know that one actually was here. “More like I don’t want people to think I’m god, or I’m something that doesn’t _actually_ exist.” Sharena looked at Kiran, though she looked more perplexed than understanding.

“What do you mean?”

Kiran sighed, “Well. Gods don’t really exist. They do, but in the mind. There isn’t any proof that they do exist. By that logic, if people think I’m a god then I don’t really exist.” Sharena was silent as Kiran spoke. “I don’t want to live knowing that I don’t exist.” Was this what it was looking for? Existence? “Does any of this make any sense?”

“A little,” Sharena shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I never really cared about that divinity stuff.” Kiran blinked at Sharena as she sighed. Her expression seemed to show guilt, as if she wasn’t being honest with herself, or with other people. Kiran knew that feeling, knew that look. The pain of being unable to speak one’s true thoughts when so immersed in something that was thought to be law. “It isn’t that I don’t believe in it, but I didn’t understand what was so important. I never really understood myself either, but being around you helped me realize what I wanted.” A small smile appeared upon her lips. “I might not really understand what you’re talking about, but I guess I can empathize with you.”

“So I guess we’re kind of the same.” Kiran smiled at Sharena.

“Yeah… Like siblings.”

It always wondered what it was like to have siblings. “That sounds nice,” it whispered. And for a brief moment it was happy.

* * *

 

Elli sat calmly at the table as it watched Kiran fixed the folds in their attire. They stared at each other for a moment, skins bare and wounds open to each other. In the comfort of Elli’s study, alone, it could rest without wrapping itself in intricate armors, feathers, or cloths. Still it kept blind. Kiran stared at the king, a more formal approach than what he usually saw when eating with the Heroes.

“I have become aware that you haven’t been joining us for dinner lately, Divine.” Elli stared at Kiran who took a sip of water. It was his main concern for the absent seat at the table where nobles would question why the holy Summoner wasn’t present. To which he had to lie and give them false truths that it was studying with Adam or with the Heroes. Though he wasn’t sure if they were entirely lies or entirely truths. Sometimes it was apparent that it was doing those things, other times he wasn’t so sure to what world it slipped into and died in.

So he wanted to know, to learn why the Divine had been failing at the duties it was given, to be the head of religion and entertain their guests. The king did not want to blindly speak words that weren’t true, and to blindly wonder to what his honored guest was doing in these days.

The question, it seemed, was something that the other was already wishing not to have been asked at the way its face so plainly showed distress. Something so easily shown without the hiding of their face. “I’m sorry. I’ve… been training.”

“Training?” he questioned, his brow raised.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to hone my abilities and train with the Heroes.” It rubbed its hands together. “I’ve been resting as of late.”

Elli took a sip from his drink and began to eat, Kiran sat motionless as it looked down at the meager food that was set in front of them. He stared at its hands, stared at how battered they appeared from when it moved its fingers and pressed against something. A truth. “It sounds as though you have not heard.”

Kiran was about to extend its fingers to take some of the food in front of it but paused as it looked to Elli with a confused look upon its face. “Heard what?”

So he could only smile at the other as it was still. “We are to have a ball and tourney to celebrate both you and our recent victories.” The Summoner stared at Elli as if it was dumbfounded. “Do you not have such things in your world?”

Kiran shook their head, “Not like you imagine them.” Were their worlds so different that not even a simple ball or tourney was even able to relate the two worlds together? “But... to be sure, what happens in them?”

Elli smiled, “They are simple occasions.” Finally, the Summoner touched the food rather delicately placing it in their mouth as if scared that the other would break something. “The ball is to celebrate our many victories you have granted us during this war. Many kingdoms from all over the country will be gathering to Askr to join our festivities as well as test their mettle in the tourney. It will be a chance for nobles and knights to show their strengths and chivalry while being granted the favor of myself and you alike. A celebration, while also acting as a ladder to the social hierarchy.” It sat mulling over his words. “Since you are the Divine Summoner, The Great Hero, and the leading tactician of our army, you will be the herald of this celebration.”

It appeared as if Kiran didn’t know what to do with the information that Elli had given it. “So, what will I be doing?”

“You’ll act as you have always. A figurehead of our kingdom, aside from myself. You will lead the tourney and gift the winners with their prizes.” It was as it always was. Though Heroes were welcomed to join, it was more or less the other nobles in the neighboring kingdoms that wished to test their mettle to find favor or to impress their beloved. Of course his own children did join, Sharena more often than Alfonse, but none had ever been able to win the entire tourney. Elli only wished Alfonse participated in the games more often, though when confronted always spoke that the prince should be at the side of his father overlooking the knights, not participating in such battles.

Perhaps he wished that with Kiran overlooking such battle games that he would be tempted to join the ranks.

It would be perfect to show his son to the other kingdoms.

Elli reached over to a small box. He gently opened it and showed it to Kiran. Within this box was covered in beautiful silk fabrics of purple. Curled in these fabrics was a bright red feather that seemed too long for any bird. “That prize is a feather of a phoenix.”

The Divine leaned over the table slightly to look at this feather. It shimmered purple but retained a beautiful red-white tone throughout it. Yet near the tip blazed green. It was a remarkable piece, one that was extremely rare and held much meaning to their religion.

“It’s beautiful.”

The king closed this box as Kiran sat back down against the chair. “You will gift this to the winner of our tourney.” He placed it to his side, “And, should the winner may, dance with you.”

It appeared as if the Summoner paled. “Do I have to dance?” Kiran looked at Elli.

He almost laughed, “It is custom that the one who gives the reward have the chance to give the first dance to the winner. Of course, our most Divine was never present at these formal occasions, yet now it possible…” He didn’t need to go on. He continued to eat as Kiran looked down at the table almost dreading the future. “Do you not dance?”

It took a sip from its cup. “I’m not good at dancing.”

Elli huffed, “Then all we need to do is give you dancing lessons.”

“Dancing… lessons?”

Elli nodded, “It is a simple matter, one I’m sure you can learn before the ball.”

Kiran fidgeted. “Of course.”

“Though I’m sure the winner would find your clumsiness perfectly fine for someone born into war.” Elli didn’t think much of his comment, not even noticing the pained expression on Kiran’s face as it ate food. “Though, as of late, the knights of Versi have been climbing their way into these tourneys. I’ve heard one such knight is quick on his tongue. Should he win, you’d not want to hurt his pride by stepping on his foot. There are many such knights, like these. However, they know better than to feel insulted by the Divine should you tread on their feet or pride. Your favor is more than anything they should ask for, should they know it.”

“Are you trying to wed me off or keep me as your tactician?” It stared down its plate no longer interested in the food laid before it.

Elli looked baffled at the other, “No such thing!” He felt offended by such unruly manner that Kiran spoke. “I’m only warning you of your tongue. It wags more than a dog’s so you should keep in mind when talking to these knights as they could be behind the lines you rule.” The king kept himself from letting more slip from his mouth as he stared at Kiran whose face looked cold at him, but soon returned to eating. Did the other not know of the courtroom? Was it born a commoner and not of noble blood? If that was the case, then it made sense of such light flesh it had within that mouth of theirs. “I should hire someone to teach you of the court than teach you to dance, but no matter.” He waved his hand, “I’m sure being around other nobles will teach you soon enough of how to speak. Though forgive me for treating you like my child, you act more like one than any Divine we have heard in books.”

“I actually prefer if you think that I’m someone else other than what you see in your religion.” It took a sip of water, staring at Elli through those blood red eyes.

The King huffed something of a laugh as Kiran began to eat. “In any case,” he took a sip of his wine. “Since nobles are already flocking to our kingdom to prepare for the events you cannot miss anymore meals unless necessary. Though if it is for your war or heroes I do not think the nobles will mind.”

“Of course,” it nodded its head. “I’ll try not to miss anymore dinners. But I can’t make any promises.” Elli raised his brow. “I can’t be with people all the time, when I do I get tired.”

Elli laughed, “Ah. So you are one of those types. Like my wife.” He nodded his head. “In that case, I should ask her to sit with you to share tips.” 

* * *

 

Kiran yelped nearly dropping the lantern they were holding. A hand pressed its hand to its chest as it took a moment for it to rest its beating heart. The hood over their face barely hid them from Niles’s watchful gaze as he sat upon one of his many secret hiding spots. It was easy to pick the Summoner, of all people, in those shadow robes. It was easier to find them also upon placing a careful hand upon its shoulder. Their skittish nature was ever more apparent and Niles would even assume they were a small child doing naughty things. So as Kiran turned around to stare at Niles it could only breathe a sigh of relief and nearly fall in on itself with exhaustion. “Oh god, its only you.” So he chuckled as the Summoner breathed to see it was just him and not someone else, as if it was expecting someone else. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“That wasn’t my intention, dear Divine.” He looked the other up and down, for a moment. The first thing he had noticed was the cloak the other wore. It was a stark contrast to the normal robes that Kiran always had upon them. The second was the fact it did not wear its mask but instead opted to wrap its face in bandages to cover what it hid well from everyone. Curious why it would hide something he thought was only for show. “Though it does beg the question why you would be sulking around the castle at this time of night. It is rather unsightly of someone as holy as you.” A smirk appeared upon his face and the Summoner gave him an annoyed and yet tired look. Without that mask it was easy to see the other’s eyes and how tired it looked.

Those restless nights must have been long, something that Niles was well acquainted with.

_How bad are your nightmares?_

Kiran was breathless. “I’m… trying to clear my head.” It was a lie, something that Niles clearly could pick out. How stupid of them to even think about lying to someone with a silver tongue of their own.

Rather cat like Niles blinked at Kiran slowly. “In those clothes?” He jabbed a finger towards Kiran’s attire. “Seems like you’re trying to run away.”

“I wasn’t!” Niles made no movement at the sudden outburst that Kiran had, but they drew away from their anger. It fixed itself for a moment, staring at Niles. “I was just—Just trying to get away from things for a bit. To be alone.” Eyes drew towards its feet, staring at the edges of the robes that waved so slightly in the wind. It scratched at its face as if trying to get specific itch away from its cheek. Finger rubbed against the cheek covered with cloth, as if tracing a thing upon it. The anxiety in its voice was so bare. It fidgeted beneath those clothes staring at Niles expectantly as if he was going to take them and drag them back to that castle.

“So you wish to sneak out of the castle to clear your mind.” It sounded more like a statement than a question, so Kiran nodded their head as Niles pressed his hand to his chin almost in thought.

_Why don’t you just run away?_

_No, you wouldn’t. You go too much out of your way for this place._

“You’re not going to take me back, are you?”

A huff that sounded somewhat like a laugh came from his lips and Niles shook his head, “That business is none but your own.” The thief would rather do anything else but bring lost Divines back to the castle that it considered a death trap. Besides, it would be nice to slither up to the other, to see what muscles laid bare for him to pry open and stare at. “I do wonder, Divine, what makes you so repulsed by the castle you stay in?” 

“Repulsed?” it repeated. “More like annoyed.” The answer was quick. “I just don’t like being pampered all the time, with all those nobles.” Which interested Niles to hear that the great Summoner of legend that not one Askrian would shut up about didn’t like being in the presence of people that ‘cared’ about it. But it must know now, after the six months it had been here, that the nobles only wanted to win its favor to be grated favors. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, and Kiran seemed like a rather bright person to catch onto this. Part of him was glad that Kiran chose to stray away from the life of nobility in order to sit with its subjects-- subjects being the Heroes-- than sit with the wretched rich and what they always did.

Yet at the same time he found it amusing that Kiran would speak like that. Considering it always sat with priests and nobles alike, he would have figured Kiran would know by now to keep their lip tight, at least concerning those things to someone it never really talked to. “That’s dangerous talk, Divine Kiran.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to assassinate me over it,” it rolled its eyes.

“No, but a loose tongue could make some rather unfortunate events happen,” he chose his words carefully. Death wasn’t something any noble was going to do, especially to someone that led an entire religion. But that didn’t mean nobles wouldn’t blackmail Kiran or bend their words to get something out of the other. Whether it be a seat next to it or sexual favors he could think of many reasons to keep its mouth closed. Besides, a silent statue with ears was better than one that always talked. Kiran glanced at the other.

“Ah,” was their only breath of acknowledgment as they turned from Niles and motioned him to walk with it. They came to a staircase and began to descend down the stone steps. Niles fingers ran over the smooth stonework, staring at the Divine’s back. It continued. “I guess I’m used to being able to say what I want about other people regardless of who they are.” Niles listened intently.

“You have no repercussions?”

“In some countries, but in the one I lived in it was a ‘God given right’ that you had the freedom to speak your mind no matter what.” Kiran let its fingers flutter over the stone. “I’m not used to the double meanings everyone has.” It stopped and held onto the stone with its hand as if it was the only thing keeping them standing. “You should teach me about it.”

Niles stopped to stare at Kiran. It turned to look up at Niles who looked at it from a few steps above in an amused disbelief. “Me?” It was a strange favor for Kiran to ask of him, considering that there were many others that were much more knowledgeable on the subject than him. “You’d put your trust in a thief like me? And what about that pretty monk that follows you around?” A chuckle escaped his lips as he walked closer to the other. His steps calculated and eye careful on Kiran. He stopped close to Kiran, their bodies nearly touching. It did not recoil away from him, but the discomfort was palpable. It was something that Niles was reveling in. “Is it a ploy to court me?”

“No...” It shuffled back a little, “From what I heard about Nohr it sounds like you had to learn a lot about the court. Gunter told me some stories about how violent it can be so you seem like the best person to ask.” Niles sighed. It would be Gunter to recount some stories of the court to others. Nohrian courts was more like a bloody battle with teeth and tongue than it was with swords. But there was the occasional poisoning and assassination attempt. “I guess you can call it a tactical decision.” It shrugged. “Lucius is nice and I’m sure he’d tell me a lot about how to talk like a noble, but he isn’t… right for it.” Kiran tried to get away from Niles. “He lets them walk over him and I don’t like that. The nobles here act like they own the place, and I don’t want to be taught by someone like that. You’re not like that.”

It was right. He was not like those nobles that stuck their nose up at any such thing. No, Niles knew he was the lowest insect upon this earth, so he acted as such with glee. But, to see Kiran recognize this little thing Niles kept so easy within him, he almost felt disappointed that someone caught his game. “It takes one to know one, Divine. Which makes me wonder, what happened to you?”

Kiran stared at Niles, then turned away. “Does that matter?” Niles was silent.

“No, but it is rather curious for you to make that assumption about someone you don’t know.” He took a few steps back to lean against the stone railing crossing his arms for a moment, thinking about it. “What I find the most surprising is you trust me enough for me to become your… mentor.”

“You act like that’s a bad thing.”

“I can think of a large list of people that would say otherwise.” He gestured with his hand.

Kiran snorted, “It doesn’t matter to me. I never cared about that political stuff. Who I’m around with is no one’s business, besides, you’re a Hero.”

Niles was silent for a moment, mulling over those words. “Hero, huh?” Kiran was silent for a moment, not really able to understand what he meant. Niles walked over to the other again, this time taking the tip of the other’s hood and flinging it back. Niles observed the small bit of markings on the other’s forehead. Did it have more? “You don’t think I’d do it for free, now did you?” He pressed his hand against Kiran’s face. “Everything has a price.”

“You don’t mean… sex?” Kiran tried to look away or shove Niles away from it, yet he kept a firm grasp on its cheek.

Niles barked a laugh, “Oh, that’s such a tempting offer! No, I’m thinking about something different. But you’d look good in bed. I wonder how you’d sound.” The Divine began to become flustered as he took away his hand to press his finger against the itty bitty black that curled on its forehead. “Those rumors about your face must mean something.” He slipped a finger underneath the black blindfold. It seemed by instinct that Kiran smacked their hand over Nile’s hand holding it. Their skin soft against Nile’s hands. Sometimes he heard the servants talk about it while he sulked in the darkness. They whispered many things about it. There were markings. That it was losing its humanity. The list went on, and on, and on. But at the end of the day, it was no different than what he heard about himself.

“They’re probably true.” But it motioned towards Niles’s face, “But I don’t ask you about your eyepatch.”

Ah, it did make a fair point. “But that’s obvious. Some brat took my eye when I was younger.” He pressed his fingers to his right eye that was covered and felt all the scars on his face. “Think of this as a down payment. I just want to see your face. Is that too much to ask?”

Kiran was silent for a moment before sighing. “Fine, I’ll show you. But don’t tell anyone about it. There’s a _reason_ I’m covering them up.”

“Don’t worry.” He pressed a finger to his lip and took his hand away. “It will be our little secret.” A smile flashed on Niles’s face before Kiran began to bring its hands up to its face. Slowly it began to unwrap the clothes against its face and slowly the black markings were beginning to reveal itself. All upon its left side of its face. Over its chin, cheeks, reaching to its eyes, and he could see further down to its neck and beyond. And when it opened its eyes there was cat-like pupils of blood. It wasn’t what Niles expected, and yet it was! Extraordinary, yet ordinary. Though, at the end of the day, he could guess why it hid those markings. “It isn’t bad.” Niles hummed, “Fine, I’ll indulge you in what I know about the court and nobility.” He had nothing better to do than what Kiran proposed. Besides, it might be the best way to get in the favor of the other. Not that it particularly cared about its position. He was happy as a retainer for Leo but it might prove something later at the end of all of it.

He looked at Kiran who, for the first time he saw, smiled. It was bright and he saw its sharp teeth, saw how its cheeks rose brightly and how well formed its face was. Young, yet tired from war. “Thank you.”

The thief made no reply to Kiran but instead turned towards the moon to stare at it. It was a full moon which outshined all the stars in the sky. The soft light hit them all, and having a lantern in hand was hardly necessary. Their face was so innocent and pure as it turned to look back at the full moon. So when Niles looked back he was almost reminded of Corrin. He wondered how the other was doing. So he stared back at that glimmering moon and sighed. “You said you wanted to get out of here, right?” Somehow, he remembered the story Corrin told him. How they were trapped in a castle.

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘Do you want to get out?’. I can get you out.”

Kiran stared at Niles for a moment, then shook its head. “Not anymore.” It sounded like some kind of unsure whisper. It began to cover its face, but Niles grasped Kiran’s hand to stop it and Kiran looked at the other strange.

“How about a midnight stroll? I know where the guards patrol, you keep your face like that.” Niles gave a sly smile. “I want to look at it longer.” Kiran still stared, but slowly it let its hand fall to its side though there was a blush.

“My eyes hurt if I keep them open for too long.” Their voice was careful. Niles put his hands over Kiran’s eyes. Their calloused and scarred hand rough against Kiran’s soft skin.

“Can you keep them closed?” It was still unsure, though carefully nodded. Slowly Niles wrapped his arm around Kiran’s body and they both walked carefully into the night.

* * *

 

In its bed it longs for the human touch. It wants to be wrapped around in something warm. Empty and alone no friend could fill the large room. A memory enters its mind as it lays motionless on the bed. An unrequited love. There’s emptiness in it now and wonders what is the point of that feeling? It would never see her again; it would never see anyone again. So it succumbs to the nightmares.

* * *

 

Sharena set a book down in front of Kiran as she sat down in front of the Summoner. She pressed her elbows against the table and pressed her palm against her chin and stared at Kiran. It had thus secluded themselves and hid themselves from everyone in the small nooks and crannies that many had shown it in favor of avoiding the many nobles. The way they avoided the nobles coming to visit from other nearby kingdoms was almost hilarious if it weren’t for the fact Kiran was practically the head of their religion. So it was a sweet surprise that Sharena found Kiran sitting at a table rather out of the place in the Order’s grand library.

“Hey,” she called out. The Summoner looked up from their spot, piles of books at their side, opened and marked and a journal set next to them as it read. “How have you been holding up?” Sharena looked at their hand which was riddled with more markings than she last saw. The cloth upon their face hardly hid the other markings that were forming more apparent upon their eyelid lest it covered their entire face.

“Fine,” it turned the page. “I’ve been trying to learn about the other kingdoms.”

Sharena was glad. It was better than seeing it abuse itself though finding it was such a hassle that it didn’t know where to begin. “Preparing for the ball? Or are you doing it so you can avoid the nobles?” Kiran frowned. “Are you _that_ upset about the tourney and ball that’s going to happen?”

Kiran sighed as it laid back in its chair staring at Sharena. “I’m not **_upset_** about it. I’m actually really excited for the tourney. I just don’t really like huge parties and...” It stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “I don’t want to deal with nobles trying to seduce me.” It frowned, “They’re already doing it.”

A snort came from the princess. “Already?” She laughed, “That’s funny.”

Kiran frowned at Sharena. “These men don’t have any class. Its actually a little boring.” The Summoner sighed. “I wish I could paint a sign on my face that could tell other’s that I’m not interested.”

Sharena leaned in and smiled, “Do you already have someone who stole your heart?”

A strange look appeared on Kiran’s face as if it took her words literally. “What do you mean?”

Sharena’s smile became larger. “You know, someone you’re sweet on?”

Kiran stared unmoving. “What are you implying?” Wasn’t it obvious what Sharena was trying to get on or was the Summoner that thick headed?

A sigh came from her lips as she made a resigned gesture. “Never mind.” It was almost no fun that she couldn’t tease Kiran like she did with her closest friends.

“Oh…” Silence ensued for a moment. “OH!” Kiran drew back and huffed a laugh as realization dawned on it. Red was inching its way upon its face as it looked at Sharena embarrassed. “You want to know if I like your brother.” Though Kiran hit the arrow on the target the princess tried to act as innocently as possible when the confrontation rose.

“I didn’t say who,” she was quick to correct the other suddenly acting prim and proper. A smile was on her face as she motioned her hand. “But, oh please, go on.”

Kiran shook its head. “I only like him as a friend. Plus I’m too busy right now to care about that stuff.”

“A friend?” Sharena repeated the word as her façade dropped. She couldn’t believe it. But she could at the same time. He always had Kiran at least an arm’s length away from it and so too it in its own little way. His interests in them only spanned to religion and the history of their world. Personal questions, intimate questions, wasn’t something that Alfonse would do and if ever Kiran would run and hide as it was a creature who slowly let itself open to others. So before Kiran could even reply, Sharena already knew what it was going to say.

 “He’s cute, but he doesn’t look at me right. He looks at me like those priests do. I don’t… I don’t like it.” It returned to reading as if remembering a conversation it had.

Sharena made a somewhat bitter expression. “I’m not surprised,” she mused. “Ever since Zacharias left he’s gotten a little obsessed with religion.” She tapped a finger to her chin. She supposed it was his way to grief over a loss of a friendship, but in that respect it didn’t mean he could become so much a slave to that religion that, whenever he looked at Kiran, only saw that it was a god. Couldn’t he see that Kiran wanted to be ‘human’ and not be looked upon as some god? As some figment of someone’s imagination? Or did Kiran not tell that to Alfonse?

Yet, all the same, she wouldn’t be surprised if Kiran did and Alfonse could not let it click in his head.

So Sharena began opening her book for her studies yet a question passed by Kiran’s lips before any word could sink in her head. “Who is Zacharias anyway?” Sharena looked at Kiran, “I hear a lot about him but I don’t know anything about who he is.”

“Oh, Zacharias he’s…” She thought about that for a moment. Where could she begin on the topic of this fellow? “He taught me how to use a lance, and he was Alfonse’s best friend. He and Zacharias were rather close.”

Kiran nodded its head, “Best friends, huh?”

“I guess you can say that. I think it was more complicated.” She didn’t delve into the nature of the relationship that Alfonse and Zacharias had. It was a private one, one that Sharena help hide from everyone and let their relationship blossom. Alfonse was happy with it, so she saw nothing to change such. Her brother happy made her happy, and thus it let Alfonse stop meddling with her crushes that she begot. Though, it didn’t help, that with him gone Alfonse seemed more distant by the minute. “But, Zacharias was a good man. He was so nice, and he made us all happy. All he would do was fret over the wellbeing of other people, and his abilities with the lance were amazing.” Sharena sighed, “I miss him a lot.”

Kiran was silent for a moment, “What did he look like?”

Sharena could only laugh at that question. A simple question, yet one she fretted over. “You know; I actually don’t remember.”

The Summoner stared at Sharena almost confused yet did not looked surprised. “You don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t. I can’t, actually. After he disappeared, after he _left_ , no one could remember him. Not that people forgot about him, but all the memories I have of him are vague at best.” It was like a thing itching upon one’s tongue, a thing that scratched at her head wanting to be let out, yet she could not reach it, not touch it, something that could manifest into reality. “It’s like when he left everything about him left with him.”

_All those memories. Almost gone._

Dust into the wind. A wilting flower. Decaying flesh. Those memories, fading forever.

“Do you know why?”

“Not a clue,” she shrugged. “I wish I did know, but whenever I try to figure it out I just forget about it.” She scrunched up her face, “Its like something doesn’t want me to know what happened to him, or why he left. Its so strange.” Sharena pressed her finger to her lips trying to think about why that would happen. No one could figure out why, or how, but it was something everyone accepted. Though Alfonse not so much. It was if he was the only one clutching the single memory of Zacharias while everyone else let it fall through their fingers.

“Do you think if I tried to find out more about him I could do it?” Kiran looked at Sharena.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everyone that used to know him can’t really remember him or research about him, right?” Sharena nodded as Kiran went on. “I never knew him, so that means I shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Well, that does make sense.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll see him at the tourney or ball.” Kiran smiled at Sharena, “That’d be interesting.” Kiran placed their hands on their chin and began to think. It was silent for a moment as if mulling over a question in their head. Eyes were lazed and seemed to focus on nothing in particular. “Hypothetically speaking, if you saw him at the ball what would you do?”

Sharena thought about that for a moment. She looked from Kiran down to the table and tapped her fingers against the wood. That was a good question, something that she didn’t really think about. “I’m not sure. I guess—I guess I’d ask him how he’s been.” Kiran stared at Sharena expectedly as if expecting more, but drew back as it appeared there wasn’t any more she was going to say. “Don’t look _that_ disappointed. I’m sure if I actually saw him things would work out differently.”

Kiran smiled timidly. “Easier thought than done, right?”

The princess shrugged. “I guess so. But I guess that’s more of a reason for me to try to find out what happened to him. Who knows, Kiran.” Sharena smiled, “Maybe he’s like you.”


	6. Am I Wrong? Am I Right? My God! What Have I Done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water is to its knees. As the sun sets, it closes its eyes and walked further into the ocean. Should nature take it, then it would be happy.

_In my dream I was surrounded by darkness. It felt as if there everything around me was meant to be in this way. I didn’t really know if I was awake or not, since coming to this place Breidablik has been making my body do weird things. For a while I assumed it was that, but after a little bit that wasn’t the case since my body began moving on its own even though I didn’t make it. Apparently it was one of those dreams where I was just watching myself do something._

_The person I looked at, I wasn’t even sure it was me._

_I accepted it anyway. My body was walking on its own towards something, and I looked into the darkness. Something looked back at me. Something I don’t know. It had my eyes, I think. I couldn’t move, but I eventually broke out into a sprint to run away. Where I ran didn’t really matter since it was just darkness._

_But a man came into view. He was tall and looked like me. His hair was white like mine but I couldn’t really make out anything. I don’t know if he has markings either, but I felt like he was like me. I reached out for him, and he reached out for me. Our hands touched and then I woke up._

Kiran stopped writing. It looked over its hand writing squinting in the darkness trying to make out what it managed to scribble. Lips pursed in frustration as it stared into the paper trying to doodle the man it saw. But it was as if the appearance itself wasn’t possible to recreate. So it gave up setting the pen down to lay back into its chair rubbing at its eyes. Eventually it looked out the window staring into the sky that was slowly turning to day.

Truth be told, it wasn’t the strangest dream it had. Cryptic dreams such as these were in its nature, one could even call it foretelling the future or past events that had happened years ago. Lucid dreaming, future dreaming, or ESP. Whatever the case was, Kiran took these dreams to heart. No doubt should the Summoner share these dreams with others they too would considering its status. So it never did. Keeping them to itself even if it wanted to tell someone.

Carefully, Kiran sighed as it got up from the chair to move to the window. It searched the fading stars for something, for the meaning behind what it dreamt, then shook its head to prepare for the day. Where it would normally return to sleep and lay in bed for as long as it could this day was different. So it changed into its normal attire pulling the hood of its robes up and over its face and tugging a cloth to its eyes to hide the rest. Not a single glance was made towards the mirror as it exited its room.

There was no place in particular it wanted to go. Though to the library or training grounds was more preferable the idea of being bothered by nobles or soldiers who were honing their skills for the tourney to come in just a few days irritated it. So the guards bowed their heads as did the servants. Often times it would hide behind the large armored soldiers from nobles who were up so early. It wanted nothing more than to hide away this morning. Somewhere else that wasn’t its room.

Sometimes they chuckled.

Sometimes Kiran smiled up at them.

But eventually it left their side to continue its way towards the barracks, towards the groups of people that treated it in a way that it felt comfortable. Yawns would rise from its jaws as it tried to suppress the tears of exhaustion from its eyes. It trudged through the castle hallways, feet light on carpet, in attempt to find a haven where the Heroes slept. So it slithered into that corner of the castle, sneaked past the nobles and servants to the quiet life the Heroes kept.

It crept outside out the door that Niles had shown it when they walked together as he spoke of the tongues of nobles and felt the warmth of the red sun upon its skin. The sun was rising. Colors of all sorts spilled into the sky. For a moment it thought of home. Thought about how it would wake up at 7AM every morning, get ready for school, and step outside to look at the sun for a moment before turning on its heels to walk. The cold springs willed them to bring their sweater tighter over their body. Dew on the grass.

**“Niles,” Kiran spoke as it leaned on the railing of the balcony. The sunset was beautiful. It was so happy to see it. “What was your childhood like?” And he laughed because to him there was no childhood to be had. Yet Kiran still smiled their lips curled sweet as it rested its chin upon its hand with no shackles on its face. That laugh it knew so well the poison on the tongue dripping everywhere and it wanted to reflect that laughter.**

**“Are you sure you can stomach it?” he replied joining Kiran as they both looked at that same sun. Even as the fire kissed its skin the air seemed so cold. It wanted to run away and so it thought about the words Niles uttered that one night. It looked to him.**

**“After everything that’s happened,” it closed its eyes. A sigh from its lips, a gentle breeze flowing through its hair, the summer flowers blooming. “I can stomach anything now.”**

But those days were gone forever. No longer could it return to those days where it could sit and talk to its family or friends. The vision of its home had become so far away now that the thought of returning seemed impossible or a dream. Should it return life would never be the same as it used to be. Perhaps they wouldn’t even recognize its body mutilated by the forces that be. For a moment it wondered if anyone remembered who it was, or even cared that it was gone.

It stared down at its hand.

The markings clung to it. How its simple life shifted and turned into something already disgusting to be terrifying as it tried to run away from those that tried to kill it. As if it was a nightmare it would soon wake up but every time it woke up it still returned to this life.

But was this the nightmare or was its past the nightmare?

It began to walk elsewhere. Not towards the barracks but another path as if the idea of bothering who it considered friends or comrades to be a waste. It twisted and curved down the steps, through brush, and down to the areas of the castle it rarely ventured through. Sometime later it saw a path through a part of the garden it always saw but never decided to walk through, and so it went there to stand in the grass beneath the trees and listen to nature.

The tree shook softly in the wind as it sighed for a moment bringing a finger to its blindfold. It lifted it gently to peer around with its one eye. There it saw a cicada on a tree. So it reached out and fingers brushing across the top of the cicada as it did nothing to be plucked off the tree. It stared at it as its leg’s flailed then slowly let the blindfold rest against its eyes once more.

A small smile appeared upon their face as the faint memories of the past days shimmered on the sea. The last days of summer.

_Some summer vacation this was._

“Divine?”

Kiran twitched at the title. They looked to the cicada a second more before turning to the voice. Alfonse was only a few feet away staring at it. He didn’t wear the usual clothes or armor but something more plain as if he also just had woken up. And the Summoner only stared as it looked the other over before clearing its throat. “Good morning,” came its only greeting. The cicada tried to buzz in its fingers. Its voice had become distant; it was strange speaking for a moment.

“I didn’t know you were awake this early in the morn. Are you here to clear your head as well?” he inquired as he drew near. It was hard not to step back from the other.

Kiran’s face drew downward towards the cicada. “Yes,” its tongue felt like a snake’s. “I was hoping I could get away from the castle for a bit.” It hoped the other could take a hint and leave. It wanted to be alone and not be subjected to Alfonse’s groveling. This was their constant game and it wished that the two of them could be different.

“Already overwhelmed?” His eyes glanced down to the cicada in its hands. “I don’t blame you.” He shook his head, “Even I tend to get nervous when there’s so many kingdoms coming in, especially during war.”

The Divine placed the cicada on Alfonse’s shirt. “I don’t know how you do it.” Alfonse looked down at the cicada almost confused as it buzzed. So it peered up at him. “I’ve only been here for a year and I’m barely clinging on.” It pressed its hand to its face, the cloth covering its lips and mouth and markings. Hidden so carefully away from peering eyes. Alfonse picked up the cicada to look at it for a moment, then placed it back on the tree. There was silence. Has it already been a year? A year and this is what it succumbed to? How could a year have passed without so much notice?  It felt strange. All of it felt so strange and it didn’t know how to truly feel or organize its emotions.

“A year?” Alfonse blinked, “That doesn’t seem right.”

Time was lost to Kiran. A month felt like years and those years would turn into decades. Their mouth twitched as it looked emotionless into nothing. The abyss was churning within them and it wanted it all to stop. “Have you ever seen my face?”

The prince blinked, his fingers brushed the cicada’s shell. It buzzed. The flowers rustled. He didn’t look at Kiran. He didn’t want to look at Kiran. “I’m not sure,” Alfonse confessed. “I don’t recall ever seeing your eyes.”

Was it when it first put on that mask that its face was never shown? He looked at Kiran, its hood down at its shoulders, its face revealed to the world. The markings were thicker, more intricate. They crawled up to its lips, and it could see how it ran down its neck. But the blindfold still on its face. He swallowed.

They were still on its left side of its face.

“Sharena says it doesn’t look bad.” Kiran sighed, “But the more I look at them the more disgusted I get with myself. I shouldn’t feel bad but I do. Like I told everyone a lie.” It stared down at its hands. Was its body a lie? “Do you think it’s the stress?”

This was the life it had to live. Alfonse approached it. He took Kiran’s face in his hands and made it look at him as it almost keeled over wishing for death. His hands were warm against Kiran’s cold skin. It was funny, for so long it felt so cold even beneath the covers. “I don’t know.” That was all he could say to reassure it.

**I don’t know.**

**But I want to.**

“Am I changing?” Kiran brought its hands to Alfonse’s wrist. Holding it as if he were its only support in the world. The world was upon both of them. It shook. Alfonse only stared at it with pity. Did he now realize the burdens of God that he placed on a human? Did he know now why it spat at the holy ground and laughed whenever he spoke divinity at it? The weapon they prayed to it muttered curses under its breath and wished to throw that thing at the wall (perhaps it did some nights, it couldn’t remember anyway).

_Aren’t you the same as my family with another name?_

“I don’t know,” his voice almost shook at those words. The same as the last and yet hold more power in all the words it ever spoke. So Kiran’s head turned downward towards the grass again and shut its eyes from beneath the blindfold.

_Does this make me a bad person?_

“I had a nightmare,” it muttered. Slowly it tugged Alfonse’s hands away from its face and only held them as it stared down at the ground. The world upon it made it want to choke. Made it want to scream. Made it want to throw up. “Someone was in it like me, and I’ve never seen them before. But he looked like me.” The hair, the way he held himself. Was it a dream from the cursed object itself? Or was it a dream that the man inflicted upon Kiran? “I think he’s what I’m going to turn into.”

**_I’ll become hollow like him._ **

Alfonse shook his head, “It’s only a dream. Perhaps it was your subconscious that made you think that.” But he and it both knew it was not that. It hated to be pitied, hated to appear in such a fragile state. Kiran held Alfonse’s wrists tighter and stared more closely at the grass as if it would give it any answers. But there were none. Part of it wondered if it was hurting Alfonse, but even still the prince allowed it to inflict pain on him. The only thing he could do.

Does it matter?

“I don’t know.” So it shook its head and closed its eyes feeling its heart fade away. “But the more I think about it the more I realize how much I’m forgetting and how much I’m _remembering something that isn't me_.” It wasn’t just the dream that was fading into oblivion but more things. The past that it spent as a normal human seemed like thousands of years ago and it was even a struggle to remember the names of its family or the city it grew up in. What was once the thing that brought it calm now only gave it anxiety and made it cry itself to sleep at night because it could not remember the skyline of the city it loved so dear. “Its becoming a struggle remembering my name.”

“Kiran?”

“No,” so it shook its head. It wanted to cry but nothing was coming out. Was this acceptance? “My _other_ name.” Alfonse was silent as he listened to it breath and only the cicada would sing to fill the empty world. The grip on Alfonse’s wrist grew tighter as it struggled more to remember that stupid name but nothing would come. Nothing would come and it wanted to scream what it was. The words were on the tip of its tongue and yet it could not urge them out. It was just a never ending cycle of a forgotten word.

_My true name._

“I don’t want to forget, Alfonse.” Finally, it looked at the prince. It sensed how terrified and enchanted by Kiran’s spell he was. They both felt sick and both felt fear yet could not draw apart from one another no matter how hard they tried. A never ending cycle of oblivion. The hell that Breidablik inflicted upon Kiran was not only on itself but also on those it surrounded itself in. Kiran seemed genuinely terrified.

“I’ll remember for you.”

But in the end, Kiran wasn’t sure if Alfonse was telling the truth or saying that to make it feel better. It sighed and pressed its head against Alfonse’s chest leaning against him. Kiran wavered slightly in the wind feeling like the tree it stared at. “How long has it been since I’ve come here?” Finally, it asked. Even if it knew that a year had passed, even if it was so sure that was the case, it had to know for real that it had been.

Alfonse slowly wrapped his hands around Kiran. It wasn’t a hug but only rather to hold them steady. But somehow Kiran felt better feeling his hands against their body. Even if it wanted to only be alone today the outcome of the meeting was better than suffering silently.

“Eight months.”

 _So I was wrong._ “It feels longer than that.”

As if a thousand years have passed.

* * *

 

He let go of the blood in his hand. The final drip disappearing from the world as it left this world with a tiny puff of smoke. The aroma it had left was like poison and for a moment the man had thought he was going to pass out or puke from the toxic scent. By reflex he covered his mouth and squinted down at the golden bowl that held the remnants of blood. His own mixed with the other’s. Had he expected it to be this toxic he might have done it in a more open room and not one so small. A cough. A sputter. He gagged before the scent disappeared forever.

So he sniffed once or twice before looking back down into the bowl watching their blood move and wiggle as if it was a dance. His blood was a darker shade of red while the other’s was a lighter shade nearing a type of white-red. What it meant was nothing, but he found the swirls at least a little calming and hoped would somehow reclaim what he had lost before. He placed both his hands on the edge of the bowl and stared but eventually found it boring and gathered himself to walk out of the chamber and down the hallway to stare at the sun that barely poked out of the mountains.

They didn’t mean anything anyway. And even if they did it wouldn’t matter in the end. Fingers slightly shook.

As the light slowly fell across his body he felt the pain and sorrow of the other. His heart twisted and turned and he too looked down at his hands in the same fashion that the other had all the time. His markings twisted and turned on his right and if he squinted on his left he might have seen the vision of the other’s.

He wondered if it saw his. But in the end it didn’t matter. Such is life with a curse.

There were some footsteps. And he didn’t bother to look back. He already knew who it was and besides he didn’t wear what hid his marks from the world. The man spoke. “Prince?”

“Yes?” Was his simple reply.

“Askr’s tourney is tomorrow. Do you still intend to go?”

So the cursed man nodded his head slowly but surely as if the idea of going to Askr was almost ridiculous. “My only plan is going to the ball. There is only one person I wish to speak to. It would be for the best intentions of both kingdoms.” He gestured with his hand as if to ward the other’s ill feelings away. It wasn’t his problem to deal with in the end, he was only one who attached himself to the hip of the girl to become the person that she longed for. A brother.

“You aren’t thinking about doing the unspeakable, are you?”

But the cursed man laughed at that idea. “Would you think me a traitor of my own kingdom?” The other did not reply and he could tell that he stepped down from his inquiry. It wasn’t his place to judge or to question, it wasn’t anybody’s. His mission was more personal than what he wanted to let on. “Whatever it is I intend to tell it doesn’t matter in the end. Fate has already dictated otherwise. It is impossible to tell a weed to stop sucking the life out of other plants so I am only a harbinger.” There was silence as the other man finally approached the stone. He folded his hands on the railing staring at that same sun. “And you.” He motioned towards the other man. “It still perplexes me that you would stay when you can already go home.”

A silence. “I am reminded of someone I know. I suppose I am fulfilling a broken promise through that.”

“I see.”

The silence ensued.

“I have heard…” began the broken man. “That you have something in common with the other.” The cursed man thus hummed in reply. “Is that why you try to connect with it?”

“It is like how you stay when you have no reason to. Only there is a reason to my chaos.” But he wasn’t like her who killed for the sake of killing or yearned for companionship because she was lonely. He did it because there was something between he and it. They both had lost something dear to themselves and through that it was a connection. He only wanted to have back that which was stolen from him. “But as I said, fate had already seen fit to show us her cards. We only need to play by her rules.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“It would do you well to in this world.”

The broken man shook his head in response. “Then if fate wills it, can I know your name?”

That name. How he tried to forget and also tried so hard to remember. It was like the same as that other. A mix of pain and yet the pleasure of finally being rid of that horrible name. Could he even remember it now that the other person asked? He could try to say it, but all that willed itself to the forefront of his mind is the name that he wanted to return to. So he pressed his hand to his heart, felt markings wiggle felt the pain that the other endured at the very moment in forgetting the name. At the tip of his tongue and yet so far away as if on the other side of the barren sea.

“My name is—.”

He heard the god laugh as his name echoed, and he wondered how close he was to murder. He would not allow another to be controlled by the angry god, not again, not ever.

* * *

 

Kiran sat with its hands folded on their lap. A hood was over their face as they smiled gently at the people below in the tiny dirt field. Flags of many colors hung over head and the knights of different kingdoms wore their pretty armor. A Hero sometimes stood there also who wished to indulge in Askr’s pastime. Truth be told it was a little disappointed to see that Emblian didn’t attend the tourney as it might have given them a chance for peace talks, but the unspoken knew that it didn’t make a difference in the end.

It was a sad but cold truth.

So the Summoner stood from its chair and the stadium hushed. The ringing was still clear in its ears and it smiled as it took a step forward down the stairs to greet the knights and Heroes. In the end it didn’t matter if it smiled or if it frowned in disgust its face was hidden either way. Slowly it walked past each knight, their hands folded atop their stomach staring each one down through their mask. Their heads bowed, their swords dug into the ground, and their eyes lowered.

Part of Kiran was amazed at the metal they donned. It was moments like these that it was amazed that it managed to enter this world of blood to be able to see the intricate plating and chivalry. For a moment it didn’t feel anxiety or stress but rather opened its arms to this strange world. It knew well that the feeling would disappear eventually, so it would have to ride atop this feeling for the meanwhile, at least until the festivities were over. It didn’t want to suffer, at least during a time where people were supposed to be happy.

Truth be told it still struggled against the nightmare that it saw the evening before. It burned its throat, it tortured it even now as it smiled down at the Heroes and knights who turned their eyes down from it. Alfonse could feel how it shuddered when it walked past him, and Sharena had an inkling of an idea of how it must feel as she felt Alfonse tensed.

So the Summoner spoke. The words it had practiced so many times before. “You are gathered here today in Askr, knights, mages, archers, and warriors alike, to test your mettle against one another.” Kiran stopped for a moment and turned towards one of the knights. “I give my blessings upon thee, contestants, that you will all adhere to the rules of the games and give us a **clean** festival.” Its tongue felt weird saying all these words with the grace of a royalty. Still it was so used to the slang and slurs of the words back home. Niles taught it well. Raising its hand it made a gesture upon the row it walked in front of. “May your soul burn bright against your opponent.” The warriors bowed their head further. Some muttering words of prayer. The Heroes with a small smile that their friend would bless them when they knew well how much it hated it. Others straight face.

So they all rose to their feet, their swords in front of them, their books in their hands, and their bows cradled in their arms. Kiran still smiled at them all even if they still could not see.

The people wanted to roar for battle to start the tourney. To shout into the air and urge the games to start so that they may celebrate the victories of Askr. But to Kiran they walked in silence. To sit in silence and weep for those that have died for those it couldn’t save. To weep for the slaughter of the animals on the battle field that were so mercilessly cut down. It wondered if this is how those back home felt.

Would it too resort to the violence that those who were left to their own devices brewed? For a moment it couldn’t breathe. Time slowed to a halt as it looked around at all the faces that peered at it to commence the games. It would be easy to call it off. To end this fake bloodshed to put more effort into ending the war for good.

But what did it matter anyway?

Eyes casted down to the ground. A pained expression. It waved those away in an instant as reality shifted back upon it with a snap.

“Let the games, begin!”

* * *

 

Lucius pressed his hand against Kiran’s arm. His fingers wrapping around to clutch at the fabric that Kiran donned. The thick cloth suffocated it. But it smiled down at the other, its friend, its only friend it would cry upon, and laughed. “You don’t need to worry, Lucius.” It patted his back gently rubbing the gentle crease on his robes to go away. “Nothing is going to happen.”

It heard a clink. Dust rose and settled. The sun was high above the sky and showed no signs of setting just yet. One of them grunted and Lucius tightened his clutch on his staff as if ready to walk out in the arena to heal the wounds the other had inflicted. “I know,” he muttered. “But I cannot help but worry over them.”

Yes, he was the same as it. A pacifist. But this violence was for fun. It argued with itself. This violence is to show off. This violence isn’t **bad**.

Lucius knew those unspoken words and glanced to Kiran who leaned on the wooden railing. It crossed its legs and dug the tip of its shoe into the dirt idly staring at the two knights fighting. Kiran wasn’t needed, at least not yet, and had time to be alone with itself or whoever it chose. At least the nobles and knights had the decency to leave it alone when it knew it wanted to be alone. So it pursed its lips at the knights who fought to become winner of their game. “It’s only a game,” it muttered. A song rose in the air. A woman’s voice sung as she strummed her instrument.

The monk fixed his hair, tucking it behind his ear to stare down at the men. “Perhaps. But I still do not like it.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” Kiran lifted itself from off the railing, its hand lingering on the railing for a moment before nodding its head for Lucius to lead the way to somewhere more secluded. “Are you hungry?” it took Lucius’s hand to hold.

He smiled at it, “No. But are you?” Kiran shrugged. “I shall sit with you either way.”

“You’d be doing the knights that come here a bigger service sitting with me than doing it so I don’t feel lonely.” Kiran waved its hand at one of the peasants that passed by. “I don’t know if they like to sit with the Heroes to listen to their stories or to bolster their pride.”

Lucius kept walking, “Whatever it may be they would be happy with or without me to sit with you.” He glanced at Kiran whose attention had been caught by a dancer. “Then if you’d rather not humor the nobles would you consider spending your precious time with those less fortunate?”

Kiran sighed as it stared down the road. It spotted an archer practicing. “Of course I would. But I never know when someone else is going to call me to do something.”

Lucius hummed for a moment as they walked. “You could always run away for a moment.”

Running away. That seemed to have been the topic at hand for everyone to mention to it. Though Niles said those words as a test Lucius said it almost off handedly. Yet, to be fair, it wasn’t so sure which one asked the question of test and which one asked it as a joke. So for a moment it bit its lip bitterly before washing away that emotion. The phrase seemed to be a running joke among fate it seemed. It seemed as if someone wanted Kiran to run away—was this a test?

“You’re sounding like Niles,” Kiran laughed. It was pained. But seeing Lucius’s confused expression made it less so. “I’ve thought about that, you know. For different reasons.” It gazed down at the ground as it felt Lucius stare at it. “Niles said he could make me disappear but I’d never do something like that. Not to Sharena or Alfonse.” It looked towards Lucius. “Or to you.” He was silent. “I thought a lot about what you told me,” Kiran sighed as it walked along the path. It took its hand away from Lucius to press its hands together. “I’m still not sure what I’m looking for, but I think about it a lot.”

Lucius nodded his head, “Whatever it may be I believe that you’ll find it.” He smiled at it, and Kiran smiled in turn. Even if he couldn’t see its lips he could undoubtedly see how bright its eyes lit up when looking at Lucius.

“You know,” Kiran hummed. “I’m kind of getting a little impatient looking for it.” It was a joke, one that Lucius laughed at.

“Impatient?” he repeated. His laughter was silk on air.

“Its hard looking for something you don’t know,” it complained. “Its like…” It paused trying to find the right word. “Finding white hay in a haystack!” A snap rung through the air as it tried to snap its fingers together.

“It cannot be that hard,” Lucius brought his finger to his lip. “But I suppose trying is the best anyone can do in these trying times.” He brushed hair from his eyes, “You seem happier since looking for what you’ve missed.”

Kiran shrugged, “Happier is subjective. I’ve been doing better.” Neither at peace nor constantly at war with itself. It did appreciate the small moment of repose that was offered by the tourney, even if thoughts still racked its head. “When I find what I’m looking for—I’m sure I’ll be at peace.”

* * *

 

Alfonse sat comfortably in his chair next to Sharena eying the Summoner who had nobles and knights of all kinds surrounding it. Most were questions rather broad and others narrow. If one would ask about the mask it wore the conversation would be steered elsewhere hiding the fact that it wore it because of the markings on its face or that it could not sustain a perfect vision.

It was its decision it still wore the mask upon its face. Yet still Alfonse could not help but fail to understand why it still wore it when it was the Divine and even it seemed to be suffering. So he continued watching Kiran from afar as he carefully cut his food and ate from his plate. Sharena elbowed him and Alfonse grunted in response. “Looks like you have something to say,” she smiled at him as she took a sip from her cup.

“It must be the alcohol you’re drinking,” he replied calmly. Sharena gave him a dirty look, her lips pursed. “Speaking of, how much have you drank?”

His sister shrugged looking down at her glass, “Not much.” Which might have been just enough. “I try not to get drunk at these kinds of parties. You know how I get,” she set the cup down returning to her food. “You should learn to lighten up. Maybe start drinking more.” She pointed to the wine with her fork.

“I don’t like to drink.”

So his sister pouted as Alfonse took a sideways glance at her returning to face who he had once looked at. The Summoner took a sip of its drink from beneath the cloth. Their giggle echoed the room. “You should still go talk to them if you really want to,” Sharena spoke into her cup. “Just because you couldn’t make it to the finals of the tourney doesn’t mean you can’t talk to them.”

**The blade hit against his shield. The noise almost sounded like shattered glass. The banging became louder and louder as the person kept hitting his shield. Again. Again. It wouldn’t stop. It couldn’t stop. Alfonse shook not in fear of losing his life but for the strength behind each blow. It never seemed to end. Again and again, over and over. He wanted to scream for it to stop, but knew he could not. The game had not ended, and never will.**

**He saw Kiran at the corner of his eye. Even it looked as if it wanted to stop the game. But still it sat.**

“Don’t feel bad.” Alfonse looked up from his bowed head recalling how he could not win against the other kingdom. His eyes glanced to Sharena. “It’s a game. You should be having fun.” Her finger wagged a little at her brother. “Don’t always take things so seriously, I swear you’re gonna snap in half one of these days.” She bit into a piece of bread and placed her chin atop her hand. “If you’re upset about not winning for Kiran they don’t really care about that stuff.”

Alfonse blinked once, twice, before snapping his head towards his sister. “It wasn’t my intention to try to win for the Divine!” He said it a little too loud and some heads turned. Their glassy eyes peered into him and as he turned to look at Kiran itself staring. The mask seeming to live on its own. So all he could do was gently slide down into his chair as red spotted onto his cheek and the divine being kept on staring as he slid further and further and further.

He didn’t know to be terrified or embarrassed.

Sharena leaned towards him as Kiran looked away to return to the people it had been talking to. It was hard to see anything with their mask on. What emotions danced or sung could only be revealed when it decided to open its maw to speak. “Seemed like it,” she waved her hand side to side. “If you really want to make them happy spar with ‘em.”

“Spar?”

Sharena nodded as Alfonse slowly began to sit up much to the dismay of his father, “It likes to show off.”

Which seemed rather strange to Alfonse considering that it seemed not like the person to show off every time it could. It almost seemed unlike Kiran to do such things, but then again, Kiran was an always strange person even if after so long he has known the other. His gaze turned to Kiran who now sat along with the nobles having thus left it alone to sit and eat. It held the food delicate in its hands and sat rather calmly even after its laughter and giggles. “I’ll think about it.”

He turned back to his food and began to eat. So he wondered what war games that Kiran enjoyed to play.

* * *

 

Kiran leaned their back against a wall as they stared at the orphaned and homeless children playing. Niles stood near with arms crossed as he kept a silent shadow of Kiran while the Divine smiled down at the children that crowded around them. It took Lucius’ words seriously to spend time with those that were less needy. So it stood with them, talking to them, and answering their questions that they had. Kiran had only tugged Niles along with because they had walked together and the children playing fake war caught their eye. With curled lips they eventually squatted down to listen to the secrets the children had to tell them.

“Divine?” One of the children tugged on their coat.

“You don’t need to call me that,” Kiran smiled. “You can call me Kiran.”

The child was silent for a moment, “Kiran? I have a question.”

Kiran nodded slowly, “Yes?”

“Can I grow up to be like you one day?” The children all looked at Kiran with their big eyes.

The heart was slow to drop. The joyous occasion that had been previously present eventually deteriorated away into darkness and Kiran could taste the sourness on their tongue. The curse upon them it would not wish anyone to have and it was only them that could deal with it. Because there must have been a reason for so. There was a second too long pause as it tried to figure out it’s words. The tongue of silver felt like iron as the children stared up at them with their pleading eyes hoping that one day they could be important like Kiran.

But this importance wasn’t worth lying in bed nearly screaming in pain wishing one day someone would come and hold them. It was a lonely, painful, importance.

“Of course you will,” Niles answered. Kiran looked towards Niles who had a sly smile. “Won’t they, Kiran?”

Their body felt sick as they smiled at them. “Yes, you’ll grow up and be like me one day.” All the children looked at one another excited. But Kiran wanted to say more. To say that they will be better off, better off than Kiran. So it opened its mouth but before it could say a word the children ran off to play their games. Kiran had to squat there with a hole in their chest as Niles looked at it. The inspirational speech it would choke out was left for dust.

He leaned his shoulder against the wall crossing his legs as he stared at Kiran. “It hurts doesn’t it?”

Kiran was silent as it turned its head downwards. They pressed their fingers into the dirt as the weight of the world came crashing down at them. “Yes.” Their voice was raspy as it slowly got up and walked towards Niles.

“Brats like that don’t know any better,” Niles peered at Kiran who leaned their back on the wall staring at the children playing. Their wooden sticks clanged together as they pretended to be the Heroes that Kiran walked beside so often. Even one pretended to be Niles. “They’ll most likely forget you even talked to them within a year.”

Kiran was silent. It felt as if someone had placed a boulder on their chest. There was so much pain as it stared empty. “Did you forget?” it whispered.

Niles blinked at Kiran. “Huh?”

“Did you forget your childhood?” Kiran turned its head toward Niles. He shifted a little on the wall. There was a frown on his face for a moment before a smile appeared upon it. A smirk, then a laugh. A frown was solid on Kiran’s face as it stared at Niles who looked amused.

“No. But I didn’t try to.” He looked over at the children who danced and played. “But I doubt they’ll become cursed with your eyesore of a god.”

“Good thing it isn’t my god.” Kiran rubbed the top of their hand where they could feel the markings burn beneath their gloves.

Niles placed a hand on the one Kiran rubbed. He took the marked hand in his and began to take off the glove. Kiran allowed it. This was the price it had paid to learn the tongue of nobles—to allow Niles to gawk at Kiran as he pleased. “How much does it hurt?”

Kiran scoffed, and turned their face away as Niles looked down at Kiran’s hand. Their soft touch was beginning to become rough and calloused from the sword they swung time and time again. “A lot. It feels like someone’s pressing melting iron into my skin.” He rubbed his thumb over the marking as he stared down at it. The warmth of his touched melted into Kiran’s coldness. It made them feel a little relaxed at least, even if the numbness of their pain still was seared on them. “What are you doing?” It turned its head slightly towards Niles.

“I just wanted to see.”

Kiran frowned as they grabbed Niles’ hand with a flick. They could feel the scars run all over them. Over his knuckles and all around. “Why do you always want to see so bad?” Kiran stared up at Niles through their shackled eyes. It could not sense anything from the other man, just the abyss.

“We’ve already have this conversation before.” Niles smiled even more as he shrugged his hand away from Kiran. He handed them back the gloves before leaning his back on the wall. “I just think you’re interesting.”

* * *

 

Kiran watched the battle from afar. Eyes stared at a fixed gaze upon the Hero and knight that warred between one another. It was funny that at the end of it the knight from a neighboring kingdom had to face off against a Hero. The Askrian game spread so far to join kingdoms farther from this mortal plane to include the realms of others. Silently it hoped that it was the Hero—or what could possibly have considered to be a Hero.

It was not from Breidablik’s maws that birthed the ‘Hero’ Valter. It was through a skirmish that the oath that laid upon Valter was merely transferred over to Kiran’s self. And it found it funny that at the end of all things that which wished to master all things had to be mastered by Kiran. That was how Niles put it, and to be fair they weren’t sure if it meant it the way Kiran knew or the way Niles would always imply.

Either way, everyone watched the battle ensue. Their fingers digging into their seats, a hush swarming all in the wooden benches, and the unspoken that wished for Valter to lose. Those that at least knew of his background and history wanted nothing more than for the corrupt to trip or screw up, but those that were arrogant hardly cared much like Kiran. Bloodshed was bloodshed and it was what they wanted. Kiran, on the other hand, didn’t know what to think of Valter and found the way that he wanted Kiran to grovel before him almost similar in the way that Niles sometimes slid up to the Summoner a little too close than it wanted.

But in the end, it didn’t really care who won, it was rather apathetic to the endgame. Politics were politics in the end, and who won and who lost would fail to dictate what the war’s outcome was. So all the Divine could do was lean back in its seat as it stared at the two fighting. As it wished for Valter to win since he represented the Order, it wasn’t quite sure if it should _really_ root for him. The stories about him was from hearsay and it barely read a lick of that which he had done on the basis that Kiran was either too busy fighting in war, doing priestly things, bothered by Adam, or fussing and being fussed over nobles. Saying that it was ignorant of such matters was, for once, fine, considering all that it had to do to please everyone.

Dirt rose. The scuffle ensued. Not a few minutes later Valter stood over the knight licking his chops and ready to send the lance straight through the man’s neck.

It was only when his eyes made contact with Kiran’s that he withdrew his blade. Be it by Breidablik’s ‘spell’ or because of other reasons he himself only knew it didn’t matter. But that seemed to put the nobles who knew of Valter at rest yet still that tension within the nobles could have snapped the world in half. The peasants cheered ignorant of his work and Kiran was left to stare and wonder what reaction it should have.

The Heroes that did know of Valter’s work chewed their cheeks and gripped the railing. They hoped, for Kiran’s sake, that Valter didn’t win.

King Elli stood up, though begrudgingly. Kiran stood a second later. His rather large hands held the box that kept the reward, but those that knew better figured his reward was the divine itself. And it was odd having Valter stare at Kiran the way he did as the two walked down the steps as the crowd roared and people danced as flowers and such were thrown into the dirt. Because in a way it was not so different as how Alfonse stared at Kiran. But in the end the Summoner wasn’t sure if it was because Valter wanted to own Kiran or have it grovel beneath him like a dog.

To be fair, Kiran rather grovel than be the one that was being groveled to. That was what it was used to.

The king spoke but the words were lost to it as Valter kept staring at Kiran. His eyes pierced its soul and for a moment it was genuinely terrified like how it used to be when thrown into the war and sent to be damned by all. Funny enough, it reminded them of the way Xander first spoke to it. And as the box was opened it paused for a moment staring at Valter lips slightly trembling as fear struck into it. So he smiled as he felt that fear rise and fall like breath. In this moment it was extremely happy to know that only emotion it could betray was that in its eyes.

“Kiran?” Elli spoke in a mutter.

Kiran blinked, staring from Elli back to Valter then back to Elli. The Summoner cleared its throat for a moment. Both its hands reached out to the feather that it had never once touched. There was a bit of fear in that something might happen should it touch it or that the feather would float away into the wind. So it steeled itself for a moment as it picked up the feathers with two hands trying to will it under its cupped fingers. Valter still stared humored by the way Kiran fidgeted and it understood in a heartbeat why some of the Heroes who it saw at the corner of its eye looked on with pity or fear.

_This fucking sucks._

Perhaps most would bow their heads as they were being granted the reward of the tourney. But Valter was no idiot, and Kiran supposed he had fought these battles to gain one thing that was not the trophy. Perhaps Kiran might have been an idiot should Niles not have whispered things into its ear and taught it the tongue of noble kind but that was not the case. So as Valter stood haughtily as he barely leaned on his spear with that damnable smirk Kiran faked a smile that would never be seen as it took a step towards the Hero.

“Valter,” Kiran’s words rung as the crowd’s excitement died down but still vibrated. This didn’t feel right. And it wanted to laugh like a crow finding it ironic that scum of the earth was granted divinity. So much like Christianity. It wanted its words to sting. To cry out. “In your strength you have succeeded in ruling over all those that have sought to battle. I bestow upon you the insignia of The Order.” It lowered its palms to let Valter take the feather. “A crimson feather of a phoenix, to signify your light.”

It could see how Valter wanted to laugh. So he took it, but not without leaning to breath down upon Kiran’s neck with a smile that Kiran wanted to shove the other away like it always wanted to with Niles.

_Don’t touch me._

“I’ve already my prize.”

And so the crowd roared as Valter drew back with a smile and Kiran stared wishing this would soon all pass.

 


End file.
